Nine Lines
by bigred08
Summary: [RayNeela] Neela catches Ray doing something that requires explanation.
1. In The Beginning

**Nine Lines**

**Disclaimer**: The characters are not mine. They belong to the good people at NBC and Warner Bros, and all that.  
**Spoilers**: None. In fact, I hope this never ever happens.  
**Rating**: M (strong language, but mostly for graphic self injury)  
**Content Warning**: Self-injury is a touchy subject, hence the rating.  
**A/N**: This is NOT a particularly HAPPY story! Ray/Neela relationship is close but not romantic friendship. AU (I think, maybe?); definitely OOC for Ray.  
--In the second chapter, the reference information in the Journal is not real. I totally made it up.  
--The poem things at the beginning of each section are not lyrics. I wrote 'em.  
**Summary**: Neela catches Ray doing something that requires explanation.

* * *

**Preparation**

_**Desire for pain is overwhelming  
A passionate love affair with destruction  
An insatiable hunger  
For all that you cannot have**_

His last patient was a kid who needed stitches, and one of the nurses had ripped open the sterile suture kit in preparation. Susan had seen the child earlier and suggested Ray that try the new Dermabond adhesive When he saw the no longer sterile, but unused supplies, he decided to take them home, instead of throw them out, like he was technically supposed to. When he got home he put it all under the sink with other first aid things, pausing to remove the scalpel first.

He had gotten off work at 10 AM, took his time coming home and then had a leisurely lunch. Having just cleaned it up, he looked at his watch, 12:23.58. _Neela shift is over at noon, it takes about 3 minutes to walk to the El, and the El takes about 17 minutes. It's another 4 to walk to the apartment._ He quickly added up the numbers. She would literally be home any second, assuming her shift ended on time. _When was the last time a shift ended on time?_ Deciding it was safe, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it in his room on his way to the bathroom. He leaned against the sink pinning a few pieces of paper towel between the bottom of his torso and the edge the sink. It was very systematic. There was an order. There were nine parallel lines, he worked his way up from the bottom for the first four, then started at the top and worked down for the other five. He usually only did one at a time, and so by the time he got to the ninth, the first was usually healed and he'd start back at the bottom. Upon occasion, he'd do more than one at a time, and so the first wasn't healed when the last was done. In those circumstances, he would do it some other place—usually his hip bone, sometimes some place else. There had been a reason for the order, though he could no longer remember what it was, but he wouldn't break the pattern. He had started this ritual in high school, perfected it in college, but hadn't done it since med-school. _Well, until last Thursday. _On Thursday he cut the first one. Friday was the one above that. Sunday and Monday finished the set of four. He would have done it Saturday and Tuesday too, but he fell asleep before he got the chance. He could see where the other five old lines were, but they were pretty hard to find if you weren't looking. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the scalpel.

* * *

**Begin**

_**Let the crimson rivers fall  
Let the numbness wash over  
Stay strong long enough  
To let your weakness reign**_

Watching himself in the mirror he carefully traced the sharp blade from just inside his shoulder socket along the bottom of his collar bone to his sternum. It didn't take long before several red lines were snaking down his chest. As they hit the four lowest cuts, their trails were altered by the uneven skin. When they reached the towel, the color quickly spread out, the fibers pulling the liquid. He repeated his action, this time about a centimeter lower, parallel to the first incision. The presence of the knife temporarily disrupted the flow generated by the first cut, before it added to the volume cascading down his chest. There was now a great enough quantity that the rough skin a few centimeters lower no longer disrupted the path.

He placed the blade on the edge of the sink and watched his life pour down the front of his body. The cuts were close enough to his heart that he could see them pulse the slightest bit, fluctuating the rate of flow. Some of the adrenaline wore off and the acute pain set in. This was his cue to pull the towels out from where they were pinned and draw them up his body to soak up the mess he made.

"Guess what Ray? I actually got out on time today!" He hadn't heard her come in.

"Fuck." He apparently said it louder than intended and she heard him.

"Well, hello to you too," she replied. He kicked his foot back to close the bathroom door, which he had previously neglected to do. It slammed shut. "Ray?" When she walked in, she could see he was standing at the sink, so she knew he wasn't going to the bathroom. She started walking over to the bathroom.

"Yeah, uhh, what? Hi." _Shit. You threw your shirt in your room; you've got nothing to cover yourself. Dumbass. A towel! Throw a towel over your shoulder, say you just out of the shower. No, your hair's not wet—wet it in the sink. No, she'll hear that._

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, um, fine." _Shit! C'mon, think!_

"Shit, Ray!" _What the hell?_ Instead of lowering her volume as she got closer to him, it shot up and she had shouted. He turned and saw when he slammed the door, it hadn't latched and it popped back open a little. Looking through the crack she was looking directly into Ray's reflection in the mirror. "What are you doing?"

"Nothing…" She ignored his lie.

"Ray? What did you do?" She tried to push the door open. He stopped it with his foot. Her mind flashed back to Monday morning.

--o--

They were working the same shift. It started at 7 and Neela was groggily walking around the apartment at 5:45 looking for and collecting various things. She was in a tank top and boxer shorts—the A/C in the building was broken. It was already ridiculously hot that morning. Ray stumbled out of his room

"What's with the shirt Ray?" Ray always walked around the apartment in the morning in only his boxers, before finding a need for clothes about 45 minutes later. At first it bothered her, but she admitted, to herself, it wasn't a bad sight. It perked up her mornings.

"You just can't get enough of me, can you?" He grinned. She returned a lighthearted scowl.

"You know it." She laughed. "But seriously, it's not your normal routine and it's already bloody hot! _ I _was considering walking around only in my underwear this morning!"

"Oh you do that, and I'll gladly take this off," he replied, plucking at the front of his shirt.

"Why does that not surprise me?"

"And what is that supposed to mean, Roomie?"

"Nothing," then she added under her breath, "smart-ass."

"I heard that!" He poked her in the shoulder. She returned the favor, gently shoving him in the chest. Before putting back on his playful smile, he grimaced and hunched over like he'd been punched in the gut.

"Hey, you ok? I didn't think I pushed you that hard…"

"You really think you could hurt me, my small little Roomie?" He grinned. She hated when he picked on her size, but it _was_ funny—the thought of Neela, a mere 5'2", accidentally hurting Ray, who was nearly a foot taller.

"I bet I could, if I wanted to. I know you're a big softie."

"Oh I'm sure you could, but you'd need to make a little more of an effort. Give me some credit here." The playful banter had continued, and she was distracted from his odd reaction to her shove.

--o--

This suddenly made things very clear.

"Ray," her voice was full of concern, "talk to me."

"No, really, it's fine." He tried to sound convincing. He didn't.

"There is no way you can ever be 'fine' with blood pouring down your chest. Please, Ray."

He had somewhat controlled the volume, and his torso was decently cleaned. He balled up the paper towels and threw them in the trash, pulled out some more clean ones, and held them to his chest, applying pressure. He took a deep breath, and sliding his foot away from the door allowing it to swing open, he wondered how the hell he was going to explain this.

* * *

Do review…positive or not…I know I'm not perfect! (And please tell me, do I have this under the correct genre(s), 'cause I'm not really sure...? Thanks!)  



	2. Effects

Disclaimer: I don't own them. Duh.

A/N: Thanks so very muchly to all you who reviewed! To clear up a few things...yes, this does have similarities to my other story (_Blood, Sweat and Tears_), but I don't intend for them to be companion pieces...it's just something I like to write about (weird and twisted, I know. But let me put it this way...Writing is my therapy; I write it so I don't do it...) I will see about putting up one of my happier stories, but I tend to not like them as much...though of course, if I put them up, I could get your two cents :)

Please note also, the reference information for the journal is totally made up. JAMA, AEM and Scientific American are real journals, but these are not real articles.

* * *

**Interrupted**

**_Purposely wound yourself_**  
_**Unknowingly hurt others  
Ignore your pain  
Deny theirs**_

Neela quickly stepped toward him. "Seriously, Ray. What's going on?" Then the scalpel on the sink caught her eye. She reached over and picked it up. The thin film of blood made the blade an iridescent crimson. If it weren't blood, she would say it was pretty. She looked up at him. "Ray?"

"Uhhhmmm." _Come up with something to say. You don't have to explain it, but you have to say something._ "It's— it's ok, really. It looks worse than it is."

"I going to have to say, I don't believe you." She gently pushed him over to the edge of the bathtub. When his calves hit the ceramic, and she kept pushing, it forced him to sit. His shoulders were now at about her chest level and she held the paper towel he was pressing to his chest. He dropped his hand. When she peeled the absorbent material away from his body she noted it didn't stick at all, meaning there was no clotting. She tossed the dirtied paper towel to join the others he had thrown out earlier, and pulled out some supplies from under the sink. She tore open some non stick gauze, knowing it wouldn't be nearly enough, but now at least now it would hurt less to remove the bandage once there was clotting. "How deep are they Ray?"

"They'll be fine, the just have to stop bleeding. They will in about 15 minutes." He took the gauze from her and applied it to his shoulder. Red almost immediately seeped through; she handed him a pile of regular gauze.

"How do you know that?" She went back over to the tub.

"Because I've done it literally at least a thousand times, Neela." _Not like when some people say literally, but they don't really mean it. I did it almost everyday for three years, and on and off for two more after that._

"Pardon?" She asked it rhetorically. She had heard him perfectly well. She leaned toward him, wrapping her hands around the back of his neck and put her forehead on his. She closed her eyes out of despair and pain for him.

"It's alright, I know it will be fine." She stood back up, but kept her hands around his neck.

"No, it's not alright, Ray!" She was exasperated. Her hands dropped back to her sides. "It's not alright that you know so well what will happen, and it's not alright that you keep doing it!"

"Really, it's just a few cuts, Neela."

"You are out of your mind! 'Just a few cuts' is when you're shuffling paper all day and you get a couple paper cuts. 'Just a few cuts' is what you get when you're trimming flower bushes with thorns. 'Just a few cuts' is not when you do it to yourself with a scalpel!"

_I didn't know she cared so much._

"I'm not hurting anyone else by it, it's my own thing." He was getting defensive.

"Ray, me! You're hurting me!" She was incredulous of his blindness to the fact.

"Well, I wouldn't be if you had just minded your own business. You wouldn't know about it." Now anger was starting to replace his defensiveness. "What you don't know won't hurt you."

"You're my roommate, Ray. I would have found out some time."

"I successfully hid it from my roommates for the last 3 years of college." He was back to defensive. "And two years of med-school."

"Well, whatever, now I do know."

"Why is it such a big deal to you anyway?" She stared at him in disbelief. He was now looking down trying to check the status of his wound, but it was just high enough on his chest that he couldn't really see.

"Why is it such a big deal! Ray!" She put her hands around his neck again, and forced him to look up at her. "Because I care about you."

_You shouldn't. I'm messy, and inconsiderate, and not anywhere near good enough to be something you care about._

"Yes, sometimes you bug the bloody hell out of me," she continued. "Finding passed out rockers and random groupies around the apartment is irritating. But, if it bothered me that much, do you think I would have stayed here?"

"I— I don't know." _Nice comeback, Ray._ She exhaled loudly and shook her head, confused and irritated that he didn't seem to get what she was saying. She dropped her hands again. She turned on the tap water, quickly checking the temperature before wetting some of the gauze she had pulled out.

"Get up." He could sense no emotion in her voice. She didn't sound angry with him anymore, or sad. He stood. He immediately sat back down, put his hand on the edge of the tub next to him and closed his eyes for a few seconds.

"Head rush" he stated sheepishly. That got an ever so small smile of pity out of her. He stood up more slowly.

He continued to hold the gauze as a makeshift bandage against his own chest, and she wiped up the trails of blood down his torso. In his hasty attempt at clean up, he hadn't done a very thorough job. She started just below the material he was holding and slowly moved her way down. She had to apply some pressure and let the roughness of the gauze scrub off the now-dried blood. After every few inches she threw away the gauze that had turned a sickening shade of deep red and got a new piece. Water, squeezed from the gauze in her hand dripped down, imitating of the liquid she was presently removing. Though it was warm when it came from the tap, the water cooled quickly and it gave him goose bumps as the cold rivers flowed down. By the time she got to where his skin was clean, she noticed that enough water had trickled down his front carrying with it red color, that the top of his jeans were wet and a light pink hue.

"Sorry." He shrugged, and quickly realized that was a mistake, the movement twisting the injured skin. He sat back down. She started assessing the damage and he dropped his hand, not needing to hold the temporary bandage any longer. She was able to remove the absorbent material without breaking any clotting, and the bleeding appeared to have slowed significantly, if not stopped completely. She tossed this gauze in the garbage too. Now very gently she slowly wiped clean the skin around the cuts themselves. This was when she noticed the other four parallel slashes. She traced them, silently seeking an explanation that she knew he wouldn't give, before she continued. She concentrated intently on what she was doing. His gaze was focused on the floor. Once the area was mostly cleaned up she tore open a few alcohol pads. Starting at the bottom older cuts she moved up. She saw the scars of the other three cuts that he had not yet reopened. She again traced them with her finger, her actions begging questions that she knew would go unanswered. She reached the new lacerations.

"Ow, shit!" The pain made him react faster than he could stop himself.

"Sorry." She touched them gingerly. He cringed slightly, but allowed her to continue. He shrugged again, this time though, only with his right shoulder. She stepped back and leaned against the sink wondering how best to deal with the situation. The cuts weren't deep enough to need stitches, but a regular band aid wouldn't really be enough. Plus, she thought, she'd never seen a band aid big enough to cover that large an area. She decided to just tape it up. Once again she reached under the sink, this time pulling out a roll of silk surgical tape. He shook his head.

"No, just leave 'em."

"What? That's stupid, you know that."

"Like I said before, Neela, I know how this goes. I'll leave them open to air out and go watch TV or something." When he used that tone of voice she knew it was pointless arguing with him. He went into his room to change. She walked in the opposite direction and fell into the couch. She turned the TV on and started flipping through the channels. Not finding anything of interest she willed herself to get up and figure out something to do.

* * *

**Aftermath **

_**Pain is temporary  
Scars are forever  
But they are eternally entwined.  
Scars are the foot prints of pain  
Everlasting evidence that can't be erased.**_

"Hey, Ray? I am going out, is there anything you need at the store?" He came out of his room.

"You're leaving?" There was a hint of sadness in his voice.

"Yeah, I was going to…the apartment is stuffy, and it kind of sounded like you wanted to be alone anyway."

"Oh. No, not really," he replied, disappointed.

"You want me to stay?"

"Would you?"

"Yeah, sure, I guess so." She saw his eyes light up ever so slightly. He started walking over to the couch. "There's nothing on TV." He stopped walking.

"Hmm." Standing in the middle of the room, he looked like a lost little boy.

"I have a several back issues of journals…I haven't been keeping up lately. I guess I'll try to make some headway with that," she said, mostly to herself. She went to her room to retrieve the stack of issues of JAMA and Annals of Emergency Medicine. There were a few Scientific American's thrown in the pile too.

"That sounds like loads of fun." He rolled his eyes, then noticed he was talking to himself, she was already out of earshot.

"What did you say?" She came out of her room, with her stack of publications.

"Nothing." He still hadn't decided what he was going to do, and thus hadn't moved from his spot in the center of the room. She dropped the load in her arms on the floor with a loud thud and sat down leaning up against the wall. "You know we have a couch?"

"It's too hot to sit on the couch." She started flipping through the top journal. He came over and lay next to her on his stomach, propping himself up on his elbows, careful to avoid moving the injured skin as much as possible. He read over her shoulder. "Ray."

"Hmm?" He tried to make it look like he was concentrating. Really, he just liked bugging her. _She's cute when she gets mad_.

"You're acting like my little brother." She really _was_ trying to concentrate.

"Is that a bad thing?"

"I'm just saying you're acting childish." He moved a little, so he was no longer reading over her shoulder.

"Just keeping your life interesting…" She looked over at him and smiled.

"Gee, thanks," she answered sarcastically. He took the next journal off the top of the pile, and started thumbing through it.

For a little while they each remained where they were, slowly flipping through the pages. Every once in a while she found an article that caught her particular field of interest and would rip it out. She tossed the pages she was finished with on Ray's back. If he was going to act like a child, she decided, he would get the same attitude in return. Every time he felt more weight added to his back he looked up did his best to glare at her without laughing.

She paused and looked like she was reading another article, but really she was watching Ray as he thumbed though the journal in front of him. Now and then he would stop long enough to read an abstract, but he was tired and not in an academic type of mood. He turned the page, and she saw his jaw tighten. He flipped the issue shut and abruptly got up, the other journals falling off his back as he stood. The one on the bottom of the pile stuck to his skin from the heat and humidity and he ripped it off before making his way swiftly to his room. She heard the springs as he flopped onto his bed.

That was weird, she thought. She leaned over to pick up the issue he had been reading. Opening it to the table of contents she quickly skimmed down hoping something might catch her eye to clue her in as to why he left so quickly.

_How children…  
…and the BRCA1 gene in…  
How_ _malpractice is affecting…  
…during pregnancy…  
…self-injury in men…  
American obesity rates…_her eyes stopped and moved back up a line, this time reading the whole entry.

_ Rise of self-injury in men, 1999-2005._ Marcs J, Dell P, Connors L, Gupta S, Sarte J. p. 1686.

She quickly flipped to page 1686, and skimmed the page, picking up the words and phrases that must have caught his eye too. _Self-injury…men…single…late 20s…generation X…knife…blade…hurt…die…not suicide…desiring pain…_

"Ray?" she knocked on his door. Standing on the other side of the door from him, worried, for the second time that day, she hoped he would talk to her.

"I'll be out in a few minutes."

"Are you ok?"

"I said I'd be out in a few minutes!" he snapped back.

"Ok." She paused deciding whether to wait for him, or resume her reading. Eventually, she chose reading, but sitting back down surrounded by torn up journals, she found herself watching his door instead.

* * *

A few more things... (1) I don't actually know if there is currently a rise in instances of self-injury in men. (2) Self-injury is _not the same as suicide_, an important concept that a lot of people don't get. (Self-injury is a type of self-harm, which also includes binge drinking, eating disorders, etc.) 

What'd ya think? Lemme know...good, bad, whatever!


	3. C'est la Vie

Not mine...the ER characters I mean...

A/N: I am obviously making up all of Ray's past, and the people in it (and therefore those people are mine. Unfortunately, they are far less interesting than the characters that aren't mine.)

* * *

**It's Life**

_**Tolerate that which cannot change  
Change that which cannot be tolerated**_

"Movie?" Ray's voice startled her. She had looked away from his door for just a few moments, and apparently that was when he had come out.

"Sure, what do you have?" He held up a box. The cover was black, and she immediately thought, _great, he's going to make me watch more awful devil movies_. Though given the circumstances, she didn't feel like she could object. She put down the journal she had been holding, but not really reading, and went over to the couch and sat down.

"It's a classic," he smiled reading the hesitation in her expression. Much to her delight, it turned out to be _The Godfather_. After putting the DVD in, Ray sat next to her.

"Don't get me wrong, in the winter you are very cozy, but it's just too hot tonight."

"Well fine then!" He playfully pushed her away.

…

By the time the movie ended, they had both fallen asleep--Ray on his back leaning on the arm of the couch, and Neela curled up in a ball opposite him.

Sometime in the night, the air conditioning kicked on and she woke up, finding herself suddenly very cold in only a tank top and shorts. She smiled at the TV which was running through the movie's opening menu for probably the three hundredth time before getting up to cut the power on the DVD player and television. Instead of returning to her previous location, she slid herself over to Ray's end of the couch hoping she wouldn't wake him. She then positioned herself against his side, and fell back asleep.

Not long after, Ray was woken up by the cold, but seeing where Neela had relocated to, he didn't want to get up. He noticed the blanket draped over the back of the couch was pushed more to her side. She had apparently opted against the blanket in favor of him. He smiled. Moving as little as possible so as not to wake her, he reached over and grabbed the blanket. He did his best to cover both of them before he lay back down.

Instead of falling back asleep, he lay there and thought about the day and the secret he had successfully kept for so many years, and how harshly it had been exposed to the woman next to him. He thought back to when his parents and friends first found out soon after he started at the end of his senior year of high school. Those friends became distant, and quickly lost touch once they all went to college. His parents hadn't really understood, but he was eighteen and he convinced them to trust him when he told them he would stop. He didn't stop, and felt guiltly for his lie. His parents _did _trust him, and never found out. From then on there was a separation between them. He was pretty sure it was in his mind, and his parents didn't feel it, but his relationship with his parents was never the same. In retrospect, he was disappointed in himself for not telling, but rationalized that hindsight is 20/20 and that he didn't really understand at the time just how bad it was. He thought about his roommate Josh freshman year in college. They had gotten along with each other, had no problems as roommates, and were becoming pretty good friends. When Josh found out mid semester, they were civil to each other and had no issues as roommates, but that might have been because they barely talked for the rest of the year. After getting caught twice, he learned to be more careful. His sophomore year roommate Todd never knew even though he still did it nearly every day. They were good friends, living together junior and senior years too, and it stayed a secret. Ray kept his distance. Todd was his friend, but he kept him at arm's length. In Ray's first year of med-school, his roommate was one of the most unobservant people he'd ever met. By this time, he wanted someone to know, because he knew he shouldn't do it, but he couldn't bring himself to tell anyone. And then it stopped. And no one ever found out. Until now. It had pushed or kept away anyone he dared to get close to--his parents, friends in high school, Josh, Todd. After that he had avoided getting too close to anyone. Once people knew everything about him, they'd disappear, or become distant. Neela was getting to know too much. She was too good of a friend and would soon probably find out. He wondered if he subconsciously wanted her to find out, to save some of the pain of her leaving when she did. As he considered this, Neela's hand which had been lying on his stomach just below her face, absentmindedly in her sleep, moved up until it rested on the raised red parallel lines on his chest.

--o--

The next morning Ray woke up to the buzz of his alarm clock coming from his room. He really didn't want to wake Neela, but mostly he didn't want her to move. He contemplated how this would work.

"Ray, are you up?" she whispered.

"Yeah," he whispered back.

"Then go shut off your bloody alarm clock."

"Yeah, ok." She could hear he was smiling. She sat up so he could get up. When he came out of his room, he was wearing a sweatshirt. The air conditioning had made the apartment quite cold. Neela's alarm went off.

"Can you turn mine off too?" she called.

"I suppose," he laughed. He came back to the couch and resumed his previous position. Neela then lay back down where she had been too, carefully wrapping herself in the blanket.

"I don't work today, do I?" Neela asked.

"I don't know. Do I?" He laughed.

"Who was off yesterday?"

"Pratt and Morris."

"Then no, I don't work today."

"Then I don't either."

"You didn't switch with anyone for a gig?"

"Nope, not this week."

"Good, you make a comfy pillow."

"Oh, well, I'm glad I am of use to you." She looked up at him and smiled. She lay her head back down, and slid her hand up his sweatshirt, returning her hand to his chest, drawing her fingers along the lines, one by one.

"Why do you do it?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know? One day you just said, 'hmm it would be cool to have nine scars on my chest'?" She was careful to control her tone, so as not to sound like she was mocking him.

"No."

"Then why?"

"Addictive behavior."

"It started a long time ago, and now I just can't stop."

"Ray, you've walked around this apartment half naked every morning for the past two years until last Thursday. I think I would have noticed."

"I hadn't done it in a while."

"Why'd you do it Thursday?"

"I don't know."

"Did something happen? Taxing patient? Bad news? Something?"

"No, nothing out of the ordinary."

"So, you just came home and did it?"

"Yeah, pretty much."

"Are you going to stop?"

"Hopefully."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, yeah, I would love for it to stop, but I can't promise anything." She looked up at him. "It's not really something I do by choice anymore."

"Anymore?"

"In high school, there was shit that was happening that, had it changed, I'd probably have stopped doing it. Maybe in college too. By the time I was in med-school, I knew I shouldn't do it. I didn't want to be doing it. I, of course, knew there was nothing good about it, but I rationalize with myself."

"That would be the definition of addiction." He nodded.

"But then it just stopped." He could see her next question, and answered it preemptively. "I don't know why."

"Oh. Is there _anything_ I can do?"

"Not really."

"Ok," she answered dejectedly.

"There is something you can specifically _not_ do."

"What's that?"

"Don't tell anyone."

"Why would I?"

"I don't know. I'd just appreciate it if you didn't."

"Of course I won't."

"Thanks." They lay in silence for a few minutes before Neela broke it.

"Hey, I have a question."

"Hmm?" She looked up at him.

"You've, umm, slept with a lot of women…"

"That is not a question."

"I wasn't finished."

"Sorry."

"None of them have said anything?"

"Nah."

"Not a single one?"

"They're hard to see if you're not looking for them." She propped herself up on her elbow and removed her hand from under his sweatshirt so she could pull the neck down to see the scars. "Obviously, I'm not talking about the six recent ones." She nodded, and inspected the three faint lines between the sets of latest cuts.

"I guess so."

"Plus, it's uh, at night."

"Right."

"And I think it's probably safe to say, it's not something they'd expect to find." Neela shrugged and let go of his sweatshirt allowing the neck to resume its intended position.

"Yes, but as I am sure you know, it is not that uncommon."

"I do know that. It's just that most people don't have it on the forefront of their minds when they meet someone."

"This is true." Neela lay back down, and returned her hand to his chest under his clothing.

"Umm, Neela?" She looked up at him. "There is something else that you can do, or rather _not _do."

"Ok."

"Don't…don't change anything."

"What?"

"Don't act like anything's changed."

"I'm not sure I understand what you mean."

"Don't treat me any different."

"Of course not." He nodded. There were several more minutes of silence. Ray started to laugh.

"There was this one girl. I had forgotten about this. She asked if they were from a knife fight."

"A knife fight?"

"Yeah," he smiled, "I said yes."

"That would have been an interesting fight, to come out with scars like that."

"Yes well, she didn't press the issue. I don't know what I would have said if she did. It wasn't really a lie either."

"I suppose not." Neela started tracing the scars again.

"One other thing…don't…leave."

"What? Like the couch?"

"No, the apartment, entirely. As in move out."

"Why would I?"

"I don't know. It's not exactly something that has kept people close to me in the past."

"What are you talking about?"

"There are _very _few people who know about this that I still talk to, Neela." She looked up at him. "People don't like having fucked up friends."

"Ray!"

"It's true."

"You're not fucked up." He didn't answer her. "I'm serious."

"Well, I appreciate that."

"I'm not going to leave, ok?" He nodded. "Keep bringing the band over here…then I might leave." He smiled. "But that would be totally unrelated to these," she finished, drawing her fingers down the cuts. He nodded again. They lay in silence for a few more minutes.

"I'll be right back," he said pulling her arm out and climbing over her, before she got a chance to sit up and get out of his way.

"Well, I'm up now, I might as well get up and be productive."

"No, you shouldn't." He pushed back on her shoulder, so she was lying back down. "Just stay here. For a few more minutes?"

"Ok, I guess." She laughed. Ray went to the bathroom. Neela lay on the couch knowing she _should _get up and do something useful, but not _wanting_ to do so on her day off. He reemerged from the bathroom and flopped down on the couch, lying on his back. Neela resumed her position lying next to him, in the crook of his arm.

"What's your hurry to get up? You're off today. Enjoy it."

"I suppose so." The top of his pants was a few inches lower than it had been before, and when Neela started to slide her hand up to his chest, she stopped when she saw some faint lines, much like the ones on his chest, peeking out. She propped herself up on her elbow again. "Ray?" She folded the waistband down to reveal several scars. "What are these?"

"Nothing." He sighed and flipped his waistband back up.

"You're full of shit." She rolled it back down.

"They're old. For all current intents and purposes, they're nothing."

"Are they 'nothing' like these are 'nothing'?" She brushed her fingers over his sweatshirt approximately where the scars lay underneath.

"Yes. Kind of." She sighed and lay back down. She let her arm fall across his lower stomach, her fingers resting on a few of the scars.

"Ray. That's really not 'nothing.'"

"I only did it a couple times there. Only when these weren't healed enough to do it here." He tilted his head down and refocused his gaze toward his chest, indicating what he meant by 'here.'

"You still did it."

"Please don't argue."

* * *

Reviews--the more the merrier… 


	4. Uncertain Future

Disclaimer: You've been told so many times, I should smack you if you don't know what I'm going to say here…(which is that I don't own them.) ...I mean that in a humorous way, not mean ... :)

A/N: So the alert things aren't working, and it just made my day when I went to the "stats" thing and saw that people actually _had_ reviewed, I just hadn't been notified by email! Yay! Thanks so much!

* * *

**It'll End**

_**Never cured  
There could always be a  
Next Time.  
Still, hope there won't be.**_

/The next day/

"I'm done and I'm leaving," Ray announced as Neela walked into the doctors' lounge.

"I'm almost done, can you wait for me?"

"I really want to go. Now."

"What's your rush to get home?"

"I just want to be out of here. And alone."

"Why do you want to be alone?"

"Because today has been shit, and I just need to relax," he replied urgently.

"What are you going to do to relax?"

"I don't know. Lie on my bed. Listen to music. Play my guitar." He was getting agitated.

"Nothing else?" Suspicion crept into her voice even though she was trying to hide it.

"I don't know. I'll see when I get home, what's with the third degree?"

"You're just not in a good mood, and I'm almost done, and I thought you could use some company."

"Oh I see. I need a babysitter. Keep me away from dangerous things, sharp objects?" he accused.

"That's not what I mean. But, yes, the concept crossed my mind," she answered defensively.

"Neela, I'm 28 years old. I don't need someone to look after me."

"Really?"

"No! I'm not gonna do it, for god sake."

"Promise?"

"I'm leaving. See you when you get home." He picked up his things, getting ready to leave.

"Is that a no?"

"Take it how you will." He didn't look up at her as he finished gathering his belongings.

"Ray, please!" He didn't answer her. He just turned and left the lounge, almost running into Abby as he opened the door. Neela got her cup of coffee, which was her original reason for going into that room.

"What was that about?"

"Nothing."

"You're a bad liar."

"It's about a confidential matter."

"Oh. Is everything ok?"

"I think so. But I need to finish up, so I can leave."

"Sure everything's ok?"

"It'll be fine," Neela sighed as she left the room.

--o--

When Ray got home, he went straight to his room. He sat on his bed knowing what he wanted to do, and knowing that he shouldn't do it. He pulled open his bedside table drawer and took out the scalpel. Leaning his elbows on his knees, he held the blade and turned it over in his hands, watching the light catch it at different angles. There were times when he had been able to stop his destructive behavior for a month or more, but he always finished his set of nine. The last time he'd done it, before the previous week, he'd traced four of the lines and decided that he would stop, but he couldn't get peace with it until the other five were done too. After all nine were done, he didn't cut himself in over 4 years—until last Thursday. He thought about the 3 remaining uncut lines. _I'll do those three and then that's it. I will be done, hopefully forever._

"Ray?"

"Damnit," he said to himself, threw the blade back into the drawer, and slammed it shut. _Maybe tomorrow._

"Hello?"

"Yeah, I'm here." He came out of his room.

"What have you been up to?" Neela asked cheerfully.

"Nothing," he answered gloomily. She looked at him doubtfully. "Jesus, Neela. Trust me. I've been sitting in my room thinking."

"I'm sorry. I do trust you. I didn't mean it like that. It's just that 'nothing' frequently doesn't mean nothing, when people say it like that."

"Well, besides being brain dead, I couldn't have been doing anything less." She smiled.

"Ok."

--o--

/The next day/

"Unless you've got something else for me, I'm leaving," Ray said to Dr. Kovac.

"The board is clear; it looks like we're set. Have a good night."

"See ya tomorrow." Dr. Kovac nodded.

"Oh, Ray," Neela got out of the stairwell just as he was passing. "I've got a introductory meeting tonight to prepare me for life in the OR, so I'll be home late."

"Ok." _Tonight. I can do it tonight._ "See ya later."

--o--

Ray stood at the sink, knife in hand, paper towel stuck between his hip and the counter. _Do it before you change your mind. _ He drew the blade across his chest in three swift lines. In his haste, the cuts went deeper than he intended. _Damnit. _ Blood poured down his chest in a sickening volume. The pain set in earlier than usual. He ignored it for several seconds before dragging the towel up his torso and pressing it against the wounds on his chest. He wiped the scalpel blade off on the towel and walked back to his room. He slid the cover over the blade and tossed it in his bag—he'd put it in a sharps container at the hospital tomorrow.

Continuing to hold the towel to his chest, he went into the kitchen in hopes of finding something edible in the fridge. To his delight, there was some leftover pasta and spaghetti sauce. He discovered it was rather difficult to prepare a meal one handed, but it was taking a long time for the bleeding to stop, so he couldn't really let go of the towel. He put his plate into the microwave and returned to the bathroom to get more paper towels, the current one almost completely soaked. He noticed the cuts were starting to clot, and so the bleeding had slowed significantly. He grabbed his shirt, which he had left tossed over the towel rack, and returned to the kitchen.

The microwave beeped, and Ray removed his plate. He was pleased to find that he had stopped bleeding and could now use both hands. When he had finished about half of his meal, he heard Neela's keys in the door. _Shit! _ He quickly pulled his shirt over his head, and threw the towel in the trash.

"Hey! You're home early."

"Yes, Dr. Dubenko ran into some complications with a patient, and Dr. Albright was called out for a family emergency. It's hard to have a department meeting with two of the Attendings not there."

"Indeed."

"So, it will be rescheduled. What have you been up to?"

"Dinner," he gestured to his plate, "and not much else."

"Is there more?" Ray nodded and pointed to the leftover container on the counter. "Wonderful. I am starving. I didn't have any lunch."

"Is there enough left? I probably took more than my share."

"Oh, no, there is plenty."

"'k."

"We are however, out of napkins," she noted as she looked around the kitchen counter.

"There's some more up there." Ray pointed to the cabinet above the stove.

"I can't reach that." Ray laughed. "Will you get them down please?"

"Sure, shorty." He smiled at her.

"Wanker." He pulled down the bag of paper napkins from the top of the cabinet. There was a cereal box on top of the napkins that slid off and his Ray in the shoulder as it fell. He winced in pain.

"Well, here are the napkins, and apparently a box of cereal as well."

"I thought I had gotten another box of that!" She picked the box up off the floor and put it on the counter. Ray grabbed a handful of napkins and threw them on the table. "Thanks."

"No problem." They both sat down to eat.

"Hey, you've got something on your shirt."

"Where?"

"Your shoulder."

"Aww, damn, it looks like spaghetti sauce." _Shit. Stupid box of cereal!_ He figured sauce was a reasonable alibi. He wiped his napkin over it as though it was sauce that might come off. Unfortunately, pressing his shirt against his skin made the stain larger as the cloth soaked up more blood. _Fuck!_

"Ray," Neela's tone hardened.

"I must have sauce on my napkin too," he tried.

"You just picked that napkin up." She stood up and walked over to him. "Ray!" Once she was this close it was abundantly clear what was on his shirt.

"No, it's not what it looks like."

"I think it is…"

"No, really." He stood up.

"Don't walk away from me."

"I'm going to wash this shirt out, so it might not stain! Because," he gave a weak smile, "I like this shirt." He turned and started walking away.

"Ray!" She followed him. "Why were you bleeding in the first place?"

"The cereal box must have reopened one of the cuts when it fell," he said, truthfully.

"From _two days _ago?"

"Maybe," he again answered truthfully. He sincerely didn't know which cut had reopened, though he did have a pretty good guess. He stepped into the bathroom and started to pull off his shirt. "What, you are going to stand there and watch me wash my shirt?"

"Honestly, I'd be interested in seeing which cut reopened."

"I don't think that's necessary."

"I saw them before, why would it be different now?"

"I just don't need a babysitter, Neela!" he raised his voice.

"Ray," she said, almost in a whisper. "What are you hiding?"

"You can go now, Neela." His voice returned to normal volume.

"Answer my question, and I will." He rolled his eyes, but pulled his shirt over his head. "Ray!" Now her voice returned to normal volume.

"You don't understand, Neela."

"What don't I understand?"

"I'm done now."

"What do you mean you're 'done now'?"

"I've done all nine. Now I can stop." He turned the cold water on and started rinsing out his shirt.

"You're going to stop now?"

"Yes."

"Promise?" He turned to face her.

"I'll do my best…but that's all I can do."

"That's all I can ask."

* * *

As of now, this is it—open-ended, but hopeful… 


	5. Yeah, Thanks

**Disclaimer**: Shockingly enough, I still don't own them, I still don't claim to own them, and I still don't know why anyone would think I do.  
**A/N:**Sorry it took so long to update. I was muse-less, and then I had actual school work to do (damn you, real life, for getting in the way!)

Thanks for all the reviews! Several people commented on the fact that this story ended rather abruptly. I agree and I think I have come up with a better ending…(this chapter isn't it...)

Secondly, I wrote the first 4 chapters quite a long time ago (5 months, or so), but I wrote this chapter and everything that comes after in the past week. I don't think there are inconsistancies, but please let me know if you find any.

Finally, this is just a series of vingnettes that take place several weeks after the end of chapter 4. I know they don't really have endings, but I'm just trying to show pieces of what happens over the time period. And it helps set up the next chapter.

* * *

/several weeks later/ 

_**Doing it is not what hurts  
It's the guilt of wanting to do it that aches.  
It's the work it requires to prevent it that is painful.  
It's the knowledge that eventually you'll have to give in that is excruciating.**_

_Your best was never good enough._ The sharp metal in his hand taunted him. _Why should it be now? _His fingers itched to use it. _You're trying your best, and failing; she can't blame you for that. You tried._ _It's not a lie. Just give in. _He shook his head, removing the thoughts from his mind.

"Barnett?" Greg Pratt asked. "Did you hear what I just said?"

"Uh," he stammered, "no, sorry."

"Concentrating too hard?" Dr. Pratt smiled. "It's alright, I just said you look a little tense, and could relax some. This is a simple procedure, and I seen you do it tons of times before. You're good at it. One of the best. Well, now that Neela's moved upstairs," he teased. Ray gave a nervous smile of gratitude. He was still trying to digest Pratt's compliment. It wasn't true, or at least he didn't think so; but he could fake it.

"Yeah," he took a deep breath, "thanks." He held the scalpel to the patient's skin, and began.

* * *

/the next week/ 

_**It won't leave you  
It's with you forever  
The more you ignore it  
The louder it screams to be heard.**_

_It's hard to do this to someone else when you want to do is do it to yourself, isn't it?_ the blade sneered. _It's ironic, don't you think? When you do this to yourself it's 'a problem' and it's 'harm,' but do it to a patient, and it's called 'putting in a chest catheter.'_

"Ray?" Abby's voice cut into his consciousness.

"What?"

"I've called your name like six times. What's with you?"

"Sorry," he stuttered, "I was…" She interrupted him, relieving him of trying to make up an excuse.

"You've got a call on line four."

"I'm kind of in the middle of this, can you take a message?"

"Sure," she answered simply. After giving him a confused look, she left. Inez reentered. He hadn't noticed she'd left.

"Where'd Sam go?" Ray looked around.

"I'm not sure. Isn't there always supposed to be a nurse in here?"

"Where'd _you_ go?"

"To get more Betadine. Like you asked me to."

"Right. No, it's fine."

"I know. You're really good at putting these in. I was just asking about hospital procedure." Ray internally reprimanded himself for his inattention. "Are you ok, Ray?"

"Yeah." He squeezed his eyes closed, trying to focus and bring his full attention back to the situation at hand. "Thanks."

* * *

/later that day/ 

_**Convince yourself not to start  
Because you won't be able to stop.  
Will power is only as strong as the will—  
The part of you that wants to stop.  
The chaos of destruction is driven  
By the part of you that wants to start  
As well as  
The weight of harsh memories  
The blindness to all things positive  
The strength of the blade  
And the encouragement of entropy,  
Methodically tearing you down  
Into smaller pieces,  
Into nothing.**_

_Just do it. Do it so you stop thinking about it. You've ignored your need for self-destruction for weeks. Now it's time to give in. _ He stood in the doctors' lounge, trying to regroup himself. He had to do this more and more frequently recently—a realization that bothered him greatly. _Get your mind back where it needs to be. Here. In the ER._

"Ray?" It was Abby's voice again bringing him back to the real world.

"Yeah?"

"Are you ok?"

"Fine."

"You sure?"

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

"You've just seemed kind of out of it. Greg and Inez both said something to me too."

"I'm just tired."

"Ask for a day off. I feel like you're always here. I see you here before my shifts start and you're still here when I'm leaving."

"It's better this way."

"How is that?"

"When I'm here I'm doing something useful. At home I do nothing constructive." _I tend to lean toward more _**de**_structive behavior when I'm at home, actually,_ he mentally added.

"Sometimes it's good to just relax. You don't seem to do that much."

"I like to stay occupied." _I _**have**_ to stay occupied._

"Ok. Let me know if you need anything." Abby smiled and stepped out the door.

"I need to just fucking do it," he sighed to himself.

"What?" He spun around.

"Nothing. Just talking to myself. I thought you left," he explained, flustered.

"I did. But then I remembered I came in here to get coffee, and then left without getting any." He laughed.

"I see."

"Want some?" She asked as she poured herself a cup.

"Yeah, thanks," he replied.

* * *

/that evening/ 

**_After you give in to it_**  
_**And you start  
It is ecstasy.  
It is relief.  
It is the greatest disappointment.  
You failed.**_

Neela would be home in an hour and a half at the earliest. She, Abby and Sam had gone on a girl's night out to dinner and a movie. Even if they ate fast food and then left in the middle of the movie, they couldn't possibly be home in less time than that.

He had been thinking about doing it ever since his conversation with Abby that afternoon. He couldn't concentrate on anything else. His ability to focus was shattered. His attention span was minute. It was time to silence the devil sitting on his shoulder. The angel on the other side couldn't be heard anymore to balance him out, or provide the voice of reason.

After dropping his stuff in his room, he went into the bathroom. He reached under the sink to pull out the object he craved. When he stood back up, he slammed the door shut and threw the blade in the sink.

"Damnit!" This is where it got difficult. The angel's last futile effort. It was mind versus body, reason versus desire. Wanting to do it more than anything else, and knowing he should do anything but. He went into the kitchen and pulled together a meal, that last bit of hope that by doing something else, he'd distract himself and not do it. The food ended up being tasteless, his mind entirely consumed by other thoughts. He left the dishes, unwashed, in the sink and walked back to the bathroom.

He knew if he started he'd have to either keep doing it until all nine were done, or he'd have to do nine tonight. He'd never done them all on one night. _There's a first time for everything,_ he thought, as he pulled his shirt over his head, tossing it on the couch as he passed. In one last vain attempt to avoid the inevitable he stepped into the shower.

He stood in front the stream of water. It pounded on his face and chest. No one could tell the difference between the shower water washing down his face and his tears. No one could see. He was not a person who cried. But now, he did. It wasn't about masculinity, or lack thereof. It wasn't about pride or weakness. It was simply that he could always reason through things. There was always a logical explanation for everything. Except for this. No matter how much he tried, he could not rectify this. Everything about it was irrational. He cried because he knew, at this point, there was no turning back. It was going to happen. The scalpel in the sink would wait for him. His tears fell because he knew it wouldn't happen if he told her. She would be able to change his course, but it hurt more to tell her than to hide it. He was much better at hiding. And he wept because he knew once he had done it, the feeling of regret would be much more painful, much heavier, and much harder to deal with than energy it took to not do it. He stepped out of the shower, quickly dried himself off and wrapped the towel around his waist.

He stood in front of the mirror, paper towel tucked between the sink and his hip. He picked up the tool lying in the sink, and flicked the cover off it with his thumb. It fell, clattering, into the sink. He took a deep breath, and began.

_One._ That was for the surge of adrenaline that coursed through him. The feeling was rewarding. Pleasurable. Serene. _I have missed this._

_Two._ That was for not doing this sooner. _It felt so good. _

_Three. _ For the tranquil disconnect that began to envelop him. _Now it will be ok._

_Four._ For giving in. _I didn't try hard enough._

_Five. _For starting again. _I've failed again.__ And now I can't stop._

_Six._ For letting it affect his work. _I let it win.  
_

_Seven._ For lying. _Everything's not ok. And this isn't going to help._

_Eight._ For hiding from her when he needed her most. _I should have told her. _

_Nine._ For not stopping sooner. _Back to square one. Getting to the end only puts me back at the beginning. _

Looking at his reflection sickened him. Instead of the usual elation it brought, he felt sheer disgust. If he'd stopped at one or two, or even three, like usual, he would be calmed and satisfied. But he hadn't. He'd done all nine. It had been at least a full minute since he'd finished the last one, and the acute pain had not yet set in. He was numb, and that scared him. It wasn't normal. He hastily cleaned up, capped the scalpel, tossed it into his bag to dispose of at the hospital and got dressed. He scribbled a short note to Neela.

_Neela—  
Hope you enjoyed your evening. I'll be home later. I don't really know when, because I don't really know where I'm going. Don't try to call, I'm not bringing my phone. I'm off tomorrow, but I made the coffee for you.  
Ray_

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, tossed it on the table, and left the apartment. When Neela got home, found him absent, and saw his phone on the table, she was a little surprised and confused. However, she knew there was nothing she could do, but hope for him to come back. She read the note, and gave a small smile at his consideration. _I made the coffee for you._

"Yeah," she whispered into the empty room. "Thanks."

* * *

/the next morning/ 

_**That sliver of time  
Before they find out  
When you can still hide it  
Is the last glimpse of peace that it brings.**_

Neela peeked into his room, to see if he had returned. The door squeaked as it opened, waking him up.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you on your day off. I just wanted to see if you came home last night."

"Yeah," he gave a tired smile, "thanks."

* * *

/the next day/ 

**_Your own demise_**  
_**Ruins others  
Secretly.  
You do it.  
They feel it.  
No one sees it.**_

"Neela, do you see much of Ray?" Abby asked as she pulled on her coat.

"What do you mean? He's my roommate. I live with him." She decided not to mention his odd disappearance two nights ago.

"No, I know, but is he ever home?"

"Recently, no. He's been working a lot. Occupying himself, or something."

"Does it seem weird to you?"

"Not really. I'm not home a whole lot either. Comes with the job."

"It just seems like Ray never leaves this place. He's here when I come in, and he's still rounding when I'm leaving."

"Why are you asking me?"

"Because he's denying anything's wrong. But Greg mentioned he was a little out of it when he was working with him on a trach last week. Inez said something about him being weird when he was putting in a chest catheter the day before yesterday, during which I went to give him a message and I agree, he did seem kind of off somewhere else."

"He might just be tired."

"Yeah, but it seems to be more than that. He's always been good at what he does. Even if he's not doing something perfectly, he does it with confidence. It's like all of a sudden he's unsure of things and hesitant. I thought you might have a different perspective on it."

"Oh. I'll ask him."

"Don't be obvious about it. Don't make him think I asked you to talk to him."

"Ok."

"Alright, well, I'm getting out of here," Abby sighed.

_Shit,_ Neela thought, realizing what was probably causing his odd behavior.

"I just thought of something," Neela said as she pulled her coat back off. "I need to deal with it. I'll see you around, I hope?"

"I hope so too! Make sure they don't keep you too cooped up in the OR." Neela smiled.

"I'll try to escape every once in a while; come down for a visit," she laughed.

"Sounds good. Let me know if you find anything out about Ray." Neela nodded, and followed Abby out of the locker room. When Abby turned to leave through the front doors, Neela turned in the direction of the admit desk.

"See you later, Abby," Neela called over her shoulder. Abby raised her hand in a wave. "Frank?" she asked the man behind the desk. "Have you seen Ray?"

"He's around here somewhere."

"Hmm, ok. Thanks," Neela answered more to herself than to Frank as she looked down the hallways. "If you see him, tell him I'm looking for him."

"Alright. Are you going to be around here?"

"In the locker room, probably, yeah," she answered, and Frank nodded in response. "Thanks."

* * *

/a short while later/ 

**_When people talk like that_**  
**_And you feel like this  
Is it your guilty conscious?_**_**  
Or do they know?**_

"Frank said you were looking for me?"

"Yeah, when do you get off tonight?"

"Technically I was off half an hour ago, but I'm not really tired, and we're kind of backed up, so I thought I'd stay and help out some."

"I think you should go home."

"Why?"

"Because I think you need to get away from this for a while. Get some rest."

"I'm off tomorrow."

"Your shift for today is over. You're off now. C'mon, I'm heading out too."

"Ok," he said suspiciously.

"Weren't you off yesterday?"

"Yeah, scheduling screw up, I haven't been off in something like a month, and now I have two days in one week. I don't know." He smiled. She gave him one in return.

"Ok, well let's go."

"I'll go present to Kovac. Gimmie a few minutes."

"I'll be here." He nodded. "I was thinking about making some coffee. Want some for the road?"

"Yeah, thanks," he answered as he left, confused by his roommate's questions. She was, however, quite right. As usual. He did need to get out of here. He just wasn't sure home would be the better option. If she was going home too though, he decided, it most likely would be best.

* * *

/a little later/  
_**Once they know  
You can keep it covered  
But you can't hide it.**_

"When was the last time you did it Ray?" she asked seriously as they walked into the apartment.

"Did what?" He was pretty sure he knew what she was asking, but wanted her to be precise in case he just had a guilty conscious.

"You know what." She spoke in a tone that told him more explicitly than what her words said.

"Why do you ask?" He tossed his stuff in his room, then flopped down on the couch.

"Because I think it was more recently than the last time you told me." She put her bag down on the table.

"Why does that matter?"

"Because you said you'd stop." She sat on the other side of the couch from him.

"I tried."

"Why do you say that in the past tense?"

"Because it _is_ in the past. I did try. I failed."

"You didn't fail."

"Then what do you call it?"

"A slip up. A mistake."

"I fucked up."

"Ray," she sighed and stood up, walking over to stand in front of him. He looked up at her. "Can I see?" He broke eye contact, looking instead at his hands in his lap, and shook his head. "Ray. Please."

"Why? You don't believe me? You have to see it?"

"No!" she sat on the coffee table. "I want to see it _because _I believe you, and I want to see that it's not as bad as I fear it is."

"It probably is."

"You're not making me want to see it any less." He stood up and started walking to the kitchen.

"You want something to eat?" he tried to change the subject, knowing he could delay Neela, but was fully aware that in the end, she would win.

"Sure." She too knew he wasn't going to give in easily, but ultimately he would. "What do we have?"

"Not a whole lot, actually," he said, standing in front of the open fridge. She stood behind him.

"Ray?" He closed the fridge and turned to face her.

"What?" Her response came in the form of pulling up on his t-shirt. He didn't raise his arms, preventing her from pulling it very high.

"Let me see."

"You're incorrigible," he glared at her, not moving his arms.

"Yeah," she smiled, "thanks."

--o--

_**Revealing the lines  
Is more than showing skin  
Or cuts  
Or mistakes.  
It's showing everything  
You hate most about yourself.  
Everything  
You regret most.  
Everything  
You don't understand.  
Everything  
You're made to explain.  
Nothing  
You can answer.**_

"That's not a compliment."

"Fine. I still know it's true. Now come on, you know I'm going to see it eventually. Why don't you just make it easier, and cut to the chase?" He swallowed the lump in his throat, preparing for her reaction. He lifted his arms, pulling his shirt over his head.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, as he tossed his shirt over the back of the nearest chair. She shook her head.

"Don't apologize. Just…" she sighed, "just…I don't know," she whispered back. She raised her arms, wrapping her hands behind his neck. "Just explain it to me." She let her head fall against his chest.

"I can't," he answered, trying to keep his emotions in check. "Because I don't understand it. If I understood it, I wouldn't do it." He lay his hands on the small of her back, pulling her into him slightly.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"It hurts more to tell you than to not. I thought…I thought I could hide it. Make it go away, without disappointing you." She looked up at him.

"You don't disappoint me, Ray. I don't like that you do it, but it doesn't make me think of _you_ any differently, understood?"

"Yeah," he sighed, "thanks."

* * *

please REVIEW. i LOVE it WHEN you DO. (and THAT rhymes TOO.)  
:)  



	6. Two Sides

Disclaimer: "dis-" as in "not" + "claim" as in "assertion of truth" + "-er" as in "the act of" - I am not claiming them.

A/N: as this story goes on, I think Ray and Neela are both getting more OOC, especially Ray. Oh well. Just thought I'd point that out.

Thanks for the reviews!

* * *

/about six months later/  
_**To want something  
Is a natural feeling of longing.  
This is beyond 'yearning'  
It's an all consuming need  
That clouds logic and reason.**_

"Neela, I'd like you to do me a favor." He was sitting on the couch, talking to her as she put together a lunch to take to work the next day. She was getting sick of cafeteria food.

"I don't work in the ER anymore, Ray. I can't take any of your shifts," she smiled.

"No, seriously," he replied, with no hint of humor in his voice. "I need you to do something for me."

"Ok." She turned to him. "What?"

"This might not really make sense, but…I don't know, just listen."

"Ok. Hang on. Let me put this away." She put the various containers back in the fridge. "Don't take the stuff on the left side of the top shelf. It's my lunch," she explained as she sat on the couch opposite him.

"I won't," he smiled.

"So what's this favor?"

"I need you to remind me why…why it's not worth it." She gave him a puzzled look, clueless as to what he was talking about. "Why I shouldn't do it. 'cause right now, I can't," he paused, and bit his lip. "I can't remember why I stopped."

"Oh," she answered slowly, realizing what he meant. "Did you start again?"

"No, but I almost did. I want to," he hesitated a moment before adding quietly, as if ashamed, "I miss it."

"Well," she started. "I can't tell you why you stopped, because you never told me, but I can tell you why I think you shouldn't do it." She finished her thought and looked down at her hands in her lap.

"Ok."

"It's not going to get you anywhere. Ultimately, it won't help. You won't get anything out of it." She looked over at him.

"You're only partially right. It _won't_ get me anywhere, it _won't _help, but I _will_ get something out of it."

"What?"

"An unbelievable sense of relief and satisfaction."

"And disappointment."

"And disappointment," he repeated, resigned. "But it's taking over my life, Neela. Like it did before."

"How so?"

"I was supposed to work today. I called in sick. This morning, I couldn't even name all the tests in a Chem-7. I can't think. I can't concentrate." She didn't answer him. She didn't know how to react, and that annoyed her. She didn't like feeling helpless. Her eyes began to burn from tears stemming from this frustration, tears that she wouldn't let go. "Sure, it doesn't do anything good in the long run, but after I did it last time, I've been good for something like 6 months."

"No, Ray. You're at your breaking point at 6 months. I'd imagine it started affecting you a few weeks ago?"

"Well…yeah…I guess so."

"I…I don't know what it's like, Ray. I can't really understand it. I want to talk you out of it, I do. I don't want you to do it. But I don't know what to say." He nodded.

"I realize that. I don't expect you to know, and in fact, I know there's no way you could. But..." his voice trailed off as he lost his train of thought.

"Let me just make sure I have this all right."

"Ok."

"You want to do it."

"Yes." 

"You know you shouldn't."

"Yes."

"You know in the long run, nothing good will come of it." He nodded. "But in the short term, it is satisfying." He nodded again. "And you miss it."

"Yes."

"What do you mean by that, missing it?"

"I mean I miss it." He paused while he thought, knowing that was a completely inadequate answer. "You know when you're tired, but can't fall asleep? Not because you had caffine, or something but because you can't stop thinking."

"Uh huh."

"And not something big, like a complicated surgury, or a test. Something petty, like you'll flip through your PowerPoint slides too fast."

"Ok."

"With that, honestly, you're going to flip through them at whatever speed you're talking, and you know you're not going to talk too fast." She nodded. "Well, that's kind of beside the point." She smiled. "The point is your mind is so preoccupied with that, you can't even fall asleep. You want to, but you can't. It gets to be 3 AM, and you think, 'just a few hours, all I want in a few hours, and it'll be ok.'"

"Alright."

"So there are two possibilities--you fall asleep or you don't. If you do, one of two things happen, either you get up the next morning, and give your presentation, or, now that you're exhausted, you sleep through your alarm, and don't make it to your presentation. If you don't fall asleep, there are also two options. Either you give your presentation, and it goes well, or you give it and it goes badly because you're so tired and you just want to sleep."

"I'm starting to lose the analogy here."

"Sorry. This is more intricate than I realized when I started. Do you kind of get what I'm saying the options are? Not for the analogy, but just sleeping or not."

"I think so."

"Ok. Either I cut, or I don't." She inwardly winced, the word 'cut' sounding as sharp as the blade he used to do it. "If I do, either it works, so to speak, and I continue on with life, or I do it and it fucks up my life. If I don't do it, either I figure shit out and continue to live life successfully, or by not doing it, I just want it more." She nodded slowly. "I want to do the first option."

"Do it a little, and continue with life," she repeated back to him the situation to confirm her understanding.

"Yes. You want me to do the third one."

"Not do it, figure things out, and live life."

"Yes. _You _think if I did what _I_ wanted, I'd end up in position two."

"You'd do it and not be able to stop."

"Yes. And _I_ think if I did what _you _wanted, it'd be the last possibility."

"Not do it, and therefore not be able to live life."

"Precisely."

"Ok. What about going to sleep, waking up for the presentation, but it goes badly, to continue with your analogy?"

"As in cut and it doesn't work?" She nodded. "I can't see that happening."

"It's the more likely situation. You get up in time, because you're a responsible person, but the presentation doesn't go well because even thought you've slept, you're still tired." He thought about that for a moment. "Which is what's happened, Ray. Six months ago, you cut. You've gotten up to do your presentation, you've gone to work. But it's not going well, you've had to break from your presentation early, you're having trouble staying focused to work." He thought about that for a little while. Slowly a small smile crawled across his face.

"You know what's annoying about you?" She looked at him, surprised at his reaction, but smiling herself, curious as to where this was going. "You have to admit, until you brought that up, my analogy was really good."

"It was. Just incomplete."

"Fine. But it _was _good, then you have to put your two cents in, and tear down my argument." He sounded slightly annoyed. She wasn't sure how to take this. "It's a back-handed compliment, Neela." She chuckled. "You're always a step ahead of me. Never miss a detail. Think everything completely through."

"That's not true, Ray."

"Yeah, it is."

"You're good at a lot of things I'm not. Think about the situation here. Of course I'm going to see things you're not. That's part of the issue--you're not seeing every side of it. You put together the pieces you have in a very logical and coherent way. But your puzzle is imcomplete because you're not seeing what you don't want to see. I'm guilty of that too sometimes." He was silent for several minutes, trying, unsuccessfully, to find the fallacy in her argument.

"Creatinine and glucose!" She smiled at him. "Those were the two I couldn't get before. Sodium, potassium, chloride, bicarbonate, BUN, creatinine and glucose. Sorry. Anyway." She chuckled.

"Anyway," she repeated, "let's abandon the analogy. What if you worked toward a goal?"

"Like what?"

"If you make it to…what's today's date?"

"January 15th."

"Ok, if you make it to the first Tuesday of February, the sixth I believe, the day the rent's due, I'll pay your share for the month."

"I'm not going to let you pay for me."

"Why not? That's $500 that you can do something fun with."

"For one, that's just not fair. I live here, I should pay rent. Second of all, it's honestly not much incentive for me."

"Why's that?"

"I'm almost done paying off my student loans, and other than that, rent and food are basically my only other expenses...I don't have anything big I'm saving for..."

"It's a gift, Ray. You're not making me pay, I am offering it." He shook his head.

"I'm really not trying to be difficult. I'm not. But now you see why this is so hard for me?" She nodded. "I am fully aware that I'm being illogical, but I can't rationalize this. I can't convince myself that the costs outweigh the benefits."

"Make it another month Ray. February 14th."

"Valentine's Day?"

"Yeah."

"Ok, my mind makes an assumption about that date." He smiled mischievously.

"Good." She gave him a suggestive smile in return.

"What?" He was genuinely surprised.

"You do it, I'll know. I'll see it," she replied simply. "Nothing can heal in a month. Incentive enough?"

"Oh. Uh," he faltered, "yeah."

"Alright then." She stood up. "I'm tired. I'm going to bed."

"Neela," he looked up at her. "As much as I want to take you up on that incentive, and _believe_ _me_, I do, I can't."

"Why?"

"Because I don't think there is an example of 'using' someone more blatant than that."

"It's not using me." He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off before he could start. "And I'm going to explain very explicitly why that is." She sat down on the coffee table across from him, and looked him directly in the eyes.

"Ok."

"It's not using me because I love you, Ray. And I know you love me. You have for a long time, and I chose to not believe it because I thought it was too good to be true. Yes, it's taken me months, but I now realize, it is true." She stood up again. "Ok?" He nodded, unable to speak even if he wanted to. "Ok." She walked away from him, to her room.

* * *

/the next day/  
_**Internal necessities and social responsibility.  
When two forces this powerful  
Collide  
There's no way to know  
Which will come out  
The conqueror.**_

Ray once again found himself in the doctor's lounge trying to focus himself. He stood looking out the window, with his hands in the pockets of his lab coat. His left hand lay still, while his right toyed with an extra unused scalpel he'd taken from a sterile suture kit. _Where is the balance? I can't function properly without it; I can't bear the thought of losing her if I do it. I shouldn't do it, but I need to. _Abby's voice snapped him out of his thoughts. He hadn't heard the door open or close.

"Ray?"

"What's up?" he tried to sound nonchalant.

"You've got to level with me, Ray. Or someone."

"What do you mean?"

"You can keep denying it, but something's up, something's not ok."

"Everything's fine."

"You're good at what you do Ray. You always have been, and you continue to get better all the time. In the beginning you could be a little sloppy," she smiled, "but everyone knew that would be short lived. And you've proved us all right."

"What's your point, Abby?"

"My point is that you're acting differently. You're not as confident as you used to be. I tried asking Neela, and she refused to say anything. She said I had to talk to you. So I am."

"I'm dealing with shit, Abby. I'm sorry. I didn't expect it to affect my work."

"Luka is going to talk to you about taking a leave."

"What?!"

"I understand having to figure shit out Ray, I do. And I would love to be of any assistance to you, if you let me. However, you _do_ have to figure this out before it causes a problem."

"Fuck," he sighed, to himself, exasperated.

"It would probably be like an extended paid vacation. I'm guessing Luka will suggest two weeks, but it's up to you." Ray turned back to the window, trying to digest all that Abby had just said. They stood in silence for a few minutes. Ray slipped the cap of the scalpel in his pocked off and on with his thumb, like how some people click pens when they're nervous. "Ray," he faced her again. "You are a great asset to this ER. You're one of the best we have." He looked at her doubtfully. "I'm not saying that to be nice. I wouldn't have brought it up if I didn't believe it."

"I appreciate that, Abby," he said trying to keep his voice even and void of the torrent of emotions that flooded him at that moment.

"The reason I'm telling you all this before Luka was by the suggestion of Neela. I know very well that Luka can be hard to read, and can seem unapproachable, but he cares about you too, Ray." Ray nodded.

"Ok. Thanks. I guess. When am I supposed to talk to him?"

"Well, when does your shift end?"

"Twenty seven minutes," he answered, looking at his watch.

"Ok, Luka will be done about the same time, and you can talk to him then. Otherwise, you are both off tomorrow," he looked at her doubtfully, "yes, I checked the schedule and you can talk to him then. Do you have a preference?"

"Tomorrow."

"Ok."

"I'm going to be presenting to him before I leave, so I'll tell him you talked to me." She nodded.

"Let me know if there's anything I can do." He nodded half heartedly. "Have a good night." He nodded again.

* * *

/that evening/ 

_**There is no victor.**_

**W**_**ant  
**_** I**_**nsist  
**_** N**_**eed**_

**O**_**ppose  
**_** R**_**esist**_

**L**_**ong for  
**_** O**_**ppress  
**_** S**_**urrender  
**_** E**_**xplain**_

_**It's the lesser of two evils.**_

"Fuck!" he swore at what he thought was his empty living room as he threw his bag on the floor, and his coat over the back of the nearest chair.

"What?" Neela's head popped up from the couch.

"I did not know you were home."

"Sorry. I was just reading."

"You knew Abby was going to talk to me?"

"Only sort of. She just wanted to know what was wrong."

"Is that what she said she was going to say?"

"No, she didn't really tell me anything she was going to say."

"They're going to make me take a leave, Neela."

"What?"

"I mean this is fucking with me too much. They don't want me back until I figure it out."

"Maybe that's good."

"I've been trying to figure it out for over ten years and have gotten nowhere! What is a week or two going to get me?"

"I don't know, Ray, but they're trying to do what's best for you and for the hospital." He sat down on the coffee table. She was lying on the couch taking up most of it. "I can move if you want to sit here," she laughed as she sat up, giving him room. He shook his head and stood up.

"No, I need to go somewhere. Somewhere that's not here and not County."

"What do you mean?"

"I'll be back in a bit." He pulled his coat back on.

"Hang on a sec, and I'll join you." She took his silence as an acceptance of her self invitation. She got up and put on her own coat and shoes. He opened the door and motioned for her to exit. "Where to?"

"The lake." She nodded and followed his lead.

The entire walk was void of conversation, but not silent due to the noise of the city. When they got to the shore of Lake Michigan, the wind whipping off it was cold and biting. Neela pulled her hat tighter to her head, burrowed deeper into her jacket and pushed her hands farther down into her pockets. Ray stood still letting the wind blow over him, with no hat or scarf, or gloves. His thumbs were hooked in his pockets, but the rest of his hands were exposed to the harsh air.

"Ray?" she whispered loudly. He turned to face her. She could see his eyes were red both from the tears he was holding back and the cold wind. "Aren't you a bit chilly?" He nodded and looked back out over the water. She walked over to his side, pulling her hands out of her pockets and draping her arms around his waist. He adjusted his arm so it fell over her back, and his hand settled on her side.

After nearly half an hour Ray spoke for the first time since leaving their apartment.

"Six and a half months ago everything was finally coming together." He spoke quietly, and addressed the dark water in front of him more than the woman beside him. "What the hell happened?" She took this to be a rhetorical question, and therefore didn't answer him. He continued, "for the first time in my life, I felt like I was grown up. I'd gotten somewhere. I had a job. I had friends. I had a home. I was genuinely _happy_." His voice remained steady, so if she hadn't looked up, she wouldn't have known a few tears had managed to escape, and rolled slowly down his cheeks. The wetness on his skin made the already icy wind seem even more frigid. He shivered slightly. When she reached up to brush the tears away, he turned his face away from her, and shook his head.

"You _have_ gotten somewhere. You _have_ a job, _and_ friends _and_ a home," she told him as she dropped her hand, returning it to where it had been around his waist. She was still looking up at him, but his gaze was focused on the body of water in front of them. He shook his head slowly.

"But I'm not happy," he countered, almost inaudibly. She tightened her hold on him.

"Let's go home Ray." He shook his head again. "You're going to get cold, if you aren't already,"

"I'm freezing," he responded with a half hearted cynical smile. "But if I wait a few more minutes, I'll be numb and I won't feel it anymore." She gave him a disapproving glare. "You can go ahead. I'll go back soon." She didn't move. "Seriously, you're probably cold too."

"I'm not leaving without you, Ray." He nodded slowly.

After a few minutes, he turned slowly, to start walking back home. She fell in step with him, dropping one of her hands so she just had one curled around his lower back. His arm didn't move from where it had been. The trip back home was as quiet as when they were walking in the opposite direction.

--o--

_**The obscurity of night  
Provides the same deliverance  
As pain and scars.  
It's scary  
Uncomfortable  
Hidden  
Uncontrollable  
And that's why you love it.**_

When they returned home, Ray kicked off his shoes and walked across the room to the window. He leaned against the wall and stared out into the darkness, marred by streetlamps and the light glowing from apartments.

"Ray?" He glanced over, acknowledging her, but immediately returned his gaze to the window. "It'll be ok." She paused, wondering if he'd answer her. He didn't. "They're not firing you. They're giving you a break, a vacation, time to relax." He nodded, still not looking at her. "No one is going to think of you any differently."

"You don't know that," he finally answered, but didn't redirect his focus.

"Yeah, I do. Unless you've told anyone, no one knows why you're not at work. For all they know you're going to Miami to visit your mother…or girlfriend…" She managed to get a weak smile out of him.

"Neela, you worked in the ER longer than I have, you know how gossip runs through there."

"Well, I assume _you_ didn't tell anyone. _I _have only talked to you about it. _Abby_ I can't imagine would say anything to anyone, except _maybe _Luka, but he knows too. That's it."

"Someone will overhear something, or let something slip."

"You've got to have trust in some people, Ray."

"I know. I do." He finally looked at her for a few seconds, then added quietly, "I'm just…nervous." When she started to walk over to him, he continued, "But no, I don't want to talk about it. I'm going to bed."

"Ray…" He cut her off by shaking his head.

"I'm talking to Kovac tomorrow. I'll let you know how it goes. Good night."

"Fine. 'Night."

* * *

Please review. It's useful! It's fun! It's cool:)  



	7. Repercussions

**Disclaimer**: I do believe you already know it. If not, see chapter one.

**A/N**: Sorry it took so long to update. I have written, rewritten, re-rewritten, re-re-rewritten (ok, you get it…) this and the following chapters an absurd number of times, 'cause I kept not liking how they turned out. I'm still not sure I am totally happy with them, but here they are…

And about that claim in the A/N before chapter 1, about their relationship being non-romantic…yeah…I changed my mind…

Thanks for the reviews!

* * *

**Proposition**

_**The greatest damage becomes evident**_  
**_When _other_ people can truly say  
What's best for _you**

/the next morning/

Ray's phone started to vibrate on his bedside table. He groaned and blindly reached for the noise, not wanting to open his eyes.

"Is it already nine?" he mumbled to himself. He pressed the first button he could find to stop the alarm.

"Hello?" he heard. "Ray?" It took him a few moments to realize the phone was vibrating because of an incoming call, not the alarm, and that the button he pressed turned on speakerphone. He sat up.

"Oh, uh, hi, who's this?" he asked before he turned off speakerphone.

"This is Luka Kovac. May I speak to Ray?" Luka sounded quite confused.

"Speaking. 'morning, Luka. Sorry, I pressed speakerphone by accident." He tried his hardest to not sound like he had just woken up.

"Not a problem. Anyway, I hope I didn't wake you." He paused. Ray's lack of response implied to Luka that he had, in fact, woken Ray up. "Sorry if I did. I know we agreed to meet at 10:30, but I thought it would be a little ridiculous for you to go all the way to County on your day off."

"Ok," Ray answered, not sure how to respond.

"I thought this would be easier."

"Yeah," Ray agreed.

"Let's get right to it. I'd like you to take some time off. Relax. Clear your head."

"Ok. Abby said you'd suggest two weeks?"

"Well," Ray heard a small chuckle in the other man's voice, "I was going to ask you what you wanted, but, yes, I was guessing two weeks."

"I don't think I have that many vacation days left. And I've already put in for some days off around the holidays and stuff."

"This wouldn't come out of those days. If you've got 6 days left now you'll have 6 days after this. I'm not asking you to use your vacation days."

"Oh."

"You're one of the best we have, Ray, but we need you to be focused. I'm not doing this as a punishment. I have no reason to penalize you."

"I understand."

"I don't want it to get to the point that I do have to."

"I know."

"So how long would you like?"

"I guess I'll go with two weeks."

"Ok. That'll start tomorrow, since you're already off today."

"Oh. Ok."

"Do you have any questions?"

"It sounds kind of ridiculous, but what are you going to tell people if they ask where I am?"

"You're on vacation. And that's the truth." There was a moment of silence. "Anything else?"

"No, I don't think so."

"Ok. Let me know if you have any other questions. And _please _let us know if there is anything we can do."

"Yeah."

"You contribute immensely to this ER. We're lucky to have you. We just want you to be happy doing it."

"Thank you Luka."

"You're welcome. Give me an update at the end of this week, ok?"

"Sure."

"So you will be tentatively back February first."

"Alright."

"Oh, wait. I'm just looking at the schedule now, make that the fifth, Monday. That would actually work nicely with the current schedule."

"Ok."

"Great."

"Have a good day," Ray answered awkwardly.

"You too." Ray held the phone to his ear until he heard the dial tone. He slowly brought it down and pressed the 'off' key.

"Now what?" Ray asked the empty room. Everyone seemed to have answer for everything. **You've got to level with me, Ray. Or someone**, Abby's voice played in his head, followed by Neela's, **you've got to have trust in some people**. Luka's voice came too, **Relax. Clear your head** That's how it always was. _Everyone always has answers until this point. Everyone can tell me what to do until we get here. But now, now what?_

His phone started buzzing again and he looked down at it in his hand. 'Wake up,' the screen read, something else telling him what to do. He sighed, and turned off the alarm. Now that he didn't have to meet with Luka, he didn't feel the need to get up, and let himself fall back onto his bed.

A little while later he heard Neela, moving around, getting ready. Doubting he'd be able to get back to sleep, he decided he might as well get up. He threw some clothes on and walked out into the living room.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready to go too?" she asked.

"Why?"

"You're meeting with Luka today, no?"

"Oh, yeah. No, he called a little bit ago, so I'm not going in at all today."

"Oh."

"You should get going. You're going to be late."

"Right. Yeah. Tell me more about it when I get home?" Ray nodded reluctantly. She phrased it as a question, but he knew she would accept nothing but an affirmative answer.

-o-

_**The assignment: Solve it.  
Rough Draft Due: January 26  
Final Draft Due: February 5  
The catch: You've already had this assignment,  
**_

_**And failed it.  
**_

_** Not once  
Not twice  
Hundreds of times.  
**_

_** Every time you drew the blade  
You failed the assignment…**_

/that evening/

When Neela arrived home from work, she found her roommate standing at the kitchen counter, his back toward her.

"So? How'd it go?"

"Alright, I guess. I've got two weeks."

"That's good." He didn't answer. "What are you making?" she tried changing the subject.

"An omelet. Want some?"

"What's in it?"

"What do you want in it?" He turned to face her for the first time since she came home. She smiled.

"What were you going to put in it?"

"Cheese, green pepper, tomatoes, bacon and some spices. Though I can't find any I want," he answered, turning back to the food he was preparing.

"All that sounds good, except the bacon. And try the cabinet to your right for the spices." Opening the cabinet, he found what he was looking for, and laughed.

"Thanks. It'll be ready in a few minutes."

"Ok. I'm going to go change." He nodded. She returned a short while later, having put on more comfortable clothes, pajama pants and a t-shirt.

"Nice timing," he greeted her, handing her a plate onto which he dumped half of the omelet. The other half went onto his own plate and he put the pan in the sink. "I rented _The Omen_. Care for dinner and a movie?" He grinned.

"_The Omen_? Didn't you already make me watch that?"

"Yes. But I lied, that's not actually what I got. Really I got _The Sixth Sense_."

"Not exactly your usual genre."

"No, but I told you I'd only make you watch the '70s devil movies, and we've seen all them. Plus, this kid was Oscar nominated, and for some reason, I've only ever seen the second half of it."

"I see. Sure, it's a good movie."

"You've seen it?"

"Yes." She sat on the couch. He put the DVD in and joined her. "Just because I didn't want bacon didn't mean you couldn't have any."

"Eh. I didn't feel like cooking it. It takes too long. And it's still good without it."

"Yes, it is quite tasty."

"Thanks," he smiled.

"You're welcome." They resumed eating, and watched the movie in silence. Eventually, they both finished their dinners and Neela moved herself closer to him. He lay his arm around her shoulders.

"Wow, this makes a lot more sense when you see the first half of it."

"Movies usually do," she laughed. He smiled in return.

"Neela, what time is your shift tomorrow?" he whispered.

"This is an important part, Ray, pay attention," she whispered back, pointing at the television.

"I've seen this part. This is where I've always come into it, actually."

"Oh."

"And you said you've seen this right?"

"Yeah."

"So you wouldn't mind if I turned it off?"

"No, I suppose not, but you're the one who suggested watching it."

"I've seen what I wanted to see."

"Ok…" she answered, slightly confused. He turned off the television and DVD player and tossed the remote back onto the table.

"Neela," he sighed, "what am I going to do?"

"What do you mean?" She turned so she was sitting sideways on the couch facing him. This caused his arm to slide off her shoulders, and it landed on her knee.

"I've got two weeks to figure something out that's ruled my life for a decade." She nodded slowly.

"I'd be glad to help in any way I can. I'm happy for you that you haven't done it in quite some time, but I don't know what made you do that. I'll be here for you but you need to tell me how."

"I don't know," he answered, frustrated. "If I knew, I wouldn't be asking." She nodded.

"Of course. Sorry."

"No, I'm not mad at you. I'm just at a loss. It's not something I'm used to, and I've found it's not something I like," he gave a derisive chuckle.

"Uh huh." She smiled.

"Logically, I don't want to do it. Given your incentive," he smiled, "I _really_ don't want to do it." She gave him a smile in return. "But I can't not do it and still function, still work. The more I don't do it, the more I want to. And I also can't do it and lose you. If that—" she cut him off.

"No, Ray. That's not what I said." She put her hand over his. "I said I'd see it if you did it. I didn't say if I saw it I would leave. Understand?" He nodded, and turned his hand over, intertwining his fingers with hers. "I'm not leaving. I don't want to. And I'm not going to." He nodded again. After a few minutes of silence, he squeezed her hand and stood up.

"I'm going to wash up the dishes," he explained as he picked up both of their plates. She started to stand up. "I'll do 'em. You can stay."

"How very responsible of you," she joked. He gave her a playful glare.

While he took care of the dishes, Neela sprawled out on the couch, turned the TV on, and started flipping through the channels. Every once in a while she'd stop on something interesting, but when the first commercial break came, she'd change it again.

"Short attention span?" he asked. She jumped. She hadn't noticed he had finished in the kitchen and was leaning on the back of the couch.

"Yeah, kind of," she laughed. He came around to the front of the couch. She started to sit up so she wasn't taking up the whole couch, but he gently pushed her back down. She provided little resistance and lay back down. He positioned himself next to her, wrapping his arms around her.

"Neela?" he whispered.

"Hmm?"

"Do you know how much harder you make this?" She turned herself as much as she could, so she was looking at him.

"What?"

"I can't do it because you don't want me to. I can't _not_ do it because I _do_ want to." He sighed. "Without you, I'd say fuck everyone else and just do it. Suck it up and do it. There'd be no internal struggle, no argument. But you _are_ here, and try as I might, I can't say 'fuck you' and do it."

"I'm sorry?" she tried.

"No you're not," he smiled, "but it is your fault." She looked at him surprised. "You're making me figure it out." She nodded in understanding.

"You're right, I'm not sorry at all," she smiled. She kissed him lightly on the cheek. "I need to shower and go to bed. To answer your question from before, I'm working an absurdly early shift tomorrow." He shook his head, and smiled.

"You're not moving," he teased.

"Ray," she tried to sound stern, but was only moderately successful.

"Neela." He mocked her tone, and grinned.

"Please?" He shook his head again. "If I come back?"

"Fine," he conceded. He pulled her tighter into himself for a moment before he got up to let her leave.

"I will, I promise," she smiled and walked toward her room. He watched her leave, then instead of lying back down on the couch, he went to his own room.

-o-

_**They're the words you've been wanting to hear.  
You've been preparing your response.  
Then you hear them.**_

_**Talk to me.**_

_**And you realize your preparation  
Consisted of empty thought  
While you waited for someone to say**_

_**Talk to me.**_

He heard the shower turn on, then after a while off again. The bathroom door opened, then her bedroom door opened and closed, then eventually opened again. Then he heard another door open.

"Ray," he spun around, surprised. _My door. Duh. _ "Are you going to bed?" He nodded.

"It a little bit."

"Like 20 minutes, or like an hour?"

"Probably the former. Why?"

"Let me know when you're going to bed." She turned around and returned to her room.

"Ok," he said to the empty room. On his way back to his room from the bathroom, he paused at Neela's doorway. She was sitting at the head of her bed, leaning against the wall, reading a book. She looked up when she heard his footsteps stop. "I'm goin' to bed."

"Hang on. Come here." She waved him over to her bed.

"Ok," he said hesitantly.

"Sit." He sat at the foot of her bed, legs crossed. "Talk to me."

"I thought you were working early, and wanted to go to bed."

"I do. But I want you to talk to me first."

"About what?"

"Anything. Whatever's on your mind. Just talk to me."

"Umm…I don't know what I'm going to do all day tomorrow," he tried to give a neutral topic. As the words came out of his mouth, he realized that his plans for the next two weeks were actually of fundamental importance.

"You could clean up around here," she jibed, smiling. He thought she had not looked too deep into his answer, and he might get away with it.

"Yeah, I might do that," he replied, honestly, much to her surprise.

"Are you going to be ok?" This question brought home the realization that Neela never missed subtlety.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I mean, what's going to stop you from doing it tomorrow, when you're not working, and there's no one here?"

"I don't know." She leaned toward him and grabbed his arm, pulling him toward her.

"Lie down," she ordered. He obliged, reclining on his back. She lay next to him, pulling his arm around her, leaning against his side. They lay in silence for a short while.

-o-

_**Trust  
Is telling someone  
Your darkest secrets  
Without fear.**_

"Honestly, I don't want to stop," he said, finally breaking the silence.

"What do you mean?" she asked, genuinely confused.

"Just what I said. I'm not trying to stop for me, I'm trying to stop for you."

"What do you mean 'stop'? That implies you have started."

"No. I mean it in the sense of prevent myself from doing it." She nodded in understanding.

"Why do you want to do it?" she asked incredulously.

"Never mind. I knew I shouldn't have said anything."

"No, Ray, that's not how I mean it. I just thought you _did_ want to stop. For you."

"No."

"Oh."

"I'm sorry."

"There's nothing to apologize for, I'm just surprised." He shrugged.

"I have no reason not to do it, except that you don't want me to. I wish that was all the reason I needed, but ultimately, I don't think it will be. I've lived my life, making sure I don't conform just because other people want me to. I try not to care what other people think."

"Ok, so you don't have reasons _not_ to do it. What are your reasons _to _do it?"

"I don't know." He sighed. "In the short term, it's satisfying. It's kind of a 'why not?' thing I guess. I have no reason to do it, but I have no reason not to either. So why not?"

"Ok, but how about in the long term?"

"Yeah, that's the problem."

"What's going to keep you from doing it Ray?" She readjusted, propping herself up on her elbow, looking down at him.

"I. Don't. Know." He said each word deliberately, a hint of anger and frustration in his voice. "You keep asking me, but I don't know, Neela." She leaned down and kissed him lightly on the lips, then lay back down, burying her head in his neck.

"I know. I just have this childlike hope that if I ask enough, eventually you'll have an answer," she whispered.

"I wish I had an answer for you. I do. I just…I don't." She nodded slowly. After a few moments he lifted her chin up, so she was looking at him. "I'm scared Neela," he said, very quietly. She was surprised by his confession of insecurity and looked at him questioningly, awaiting an explanation. "This is beyond me. I'm not controlling it anymore. I always have at least the knowledge of control. I do stupid shit sometimes, but I consciously cede control. This…I don't know…this is something else." She nodded.

"It's an addiction, Ray. Like you said before. But recognizing that is a big step."

"That's well and good, but I've taken it. I took that step quite a long time ago. I need to know what's next."

"And you want me to tell you what that is."

"I wouldn't object."

"But I can't. I don't know what's next."

"Exactly. Everyone can always tell me what to do until we get here. Well I'm here, now what?" frustration was creeping into his voice. Unsure of how to answer, Neela remained quiet.

* * *

**Now What?**

_**Healing is a long process  
But first  
You have to find  
What's broken.**_

/8 days later, January 26/

It had been a week. Ray spent most of it alone, quietly in thought, or playing his guitar. When Neela was home, she tried to get him to talk to her, but she didn't get much out of him. No matter how he looked at it, how he explained it to himself, it always came back to this. Stuck at this point. _I got here. Now what? _

As requested, Ray called Luka to check in, but he had gone to work hours before. Abby had just left when the phone rang. Ray left a vague message for his attending with the babysitter: 'Ray called to check in. There's nothing to say. He'll call back in a week.'

Dr. Kovac returned his call that evening.

"Hello?"

"I got the message that you called." Ray had no response. "There's nothing to report?"

"No. Can I take a second week?"

"Of course. If that will help."

"I hope so."

"There's nothing we can do for you?"

"I don't think so."

"But you'll let us know if you think of anything?"

"Yeah."

"Good night." Ray didn't answer, just waited for the dial tone to start sounding in his ear. He sighed and pressed 'end.'

_I haven't gotten anywhere in a week. What's another week going to do?_

* * *

Review, please... Positive...negative...indifferent...general points...specific words...whatever...  
(And by the way, this will be the last long chapter. The final two are relatively short, but hopefully tie up all the loose ends...)


	8. The Fact of the Matter

**Disclaimer**: How could you possibly not know it by now? But if you still don't know it, see chapter 1.

**A/N**: First, I know this is short (though it has ended up longer than I originally had it), but it doesn't really fit with the last chapter, or the next chapter.

Secondly, if you don't know the very basics of how to play chess, the second half of this won't make sense. So, if you don't know: 1) the game is over when the king is captured, 2) "check" is when the king could be taken by the other player if he doesn't move, 3) "check-mate" is when the king can be taken by the other player, and can't move out of that position. 4) I am not sure it's really a rule, but I think it is generally accepted that a player's turn is over when s/he removes her/his hand from the piece. If the player is still holding the piece, the move can be retracted, and the player can choose to make a different move.

And once more it took a little while to put up, because I still didn't like part of it, and therefore rewrote it. Again. I'm actually not entirely sure I am happy with it now...but here it is anyway...

* * *

_**The fact is**_

_**It  
Never  
Disappears.**_

/1 week later, February second/

Another week had passed. Ray had managed to catch up on his whole 'to do' list--do laundry, pay bills (credit card, utilities, and phone), clean out desk, read/deal with the pile of journals that had collected next to his bed, go grocery shopping. He had also already cleaned the apartment. He had to find other ways to occupy himself. Sometimes this meant leaving the apartment. He wasn't always home when Neela returned from work, but he never said where he was going. This was mostly because when he set out, he didn't have a destination. When he was home when Neela got there, she tried to talk to him, but much like the previous week, was never able to get much out of him. She didn't know if that was because he didn't want to tell her, or if he himself didn't know. This frustrated her, but there wasn't anything she could do about it.

The truth was that he didn't know, and that irritated him.

-o-

"See you tonight," Neela called over her shoulder as she left the apartment. Ray nodded in response. The door closed, and he sat at the table in silence, staring into his coffee. Something occurred to him.

_It doesn't end. That's the problem. Once it's done, it's done. The scars fade. The desire wanes. But it's forever a part of me. Forever. _The word echoed in his mind. He didn't like that word. _Forever_. If something was going to be forever, he preferred it be something less haunting. But the truth was, he'd done it, and there was no way to change the past. What he had to figure out was not how to make it go away, but how to keep it subjugated. With this new found realization, he thought he should go out somewhere for his own personal celebration. First, he decided, he needed to shower.

Stepping out of the shower, he wrapped his towel around his waist. He studied his reflection in the mirror. Knowing exactly where to look, he could see every scar and line. Every imperfection. Every flaw. And he'd made them all. Not that he thought he was perfect before this started, but each mark he saw was unnatural, and self inflicted. The last time he'd done the nine parallel lines on his chest, it was an ending. He'd drawn the complete set. His eyes fell to the area just above the towel. These scars were all much lighter, fainter, but they were still there, pleading to be reopened. He disgusted himself.

_If this is how it's going to be, fuck it._ His fingers clutched the cold metal. _No. _He put the blade down on the counter, but didn't let go. It was like playing a chess piece, if he took his hand off, that would be his move, but as long as he was still touching it, he could change his mind. He stood there for a moment, indecisive. _If I let go, that's it. It's not my turn any more. Or I can pick it back up. It's my turn._ With a well practiced hand he made his mark on his hipbone, just above the towel—two vertical lines and two horizontal. II. Two. These had been two weeks devoted entirely to trying to figure this out. They were an important two weeks. But this was going to be the end. The date was the second of February, two-two. _Check-mate. I win._ As anticipated, he was more disgusted after the fact, having made yet another blemish. But it was a sort of an ending; the best he could figure out. The blade laughed at him. _Check-mate? No. Check. It's my turn now. Nice try, though._ He had studied the board, and saw this as the winning move, realizing only after that he'd missed something._ There's no check-mate if there's no king to capture._ _The simple truth—I can hope this is the end, but it never really disappears.  
_

He didn't feel like going out anymore. Besides, Neela would be home soon. He wanted to tell her what he had figured out. He wanted to show her what he'd done. He wanted her to know that it wasn't ever going to be completely over. He wanted to convince her it was for now over...as over as it could be. He wanted her to believe him.

Simply, he wanted her.

"Ray? You here?" Neela called as she opened the door. He looked up at her and smiled. She smiled back. She looked happy.

He couldn't tell her.

* * *

A/N: Please review, it makes my day!  
One more chapter... 


	9. Closure Or As Close As You Can Get

Disclaimer: You've read it eight times. It hasn't changed.

A/N: I forgot to say last time, thanks for the reviews! And thanks for the reviews for the last chapter too :) I originally said this was going to be a short chapter...but then it grew... If you've been reading my other story (_What Makes You Happy?_) I realize there are a lot of similarities between that one and this one...I don't intend for them to be companion pieces or anything, but given it is a similar story, it (unfortunately) sounds similar...but that's just how it is :) Sorry. But here it is, the final chapter...

* * *

**Valentine**

/a week and a half later, February 14th/

_**Omnia vincit Amor  
Et nos cedamus Amori.  
--Virgil**_

_**(Love conquers all  
And so let us give way to Love.)**_

Ray had returned to a regular crazy work schedule on the fifth, as planned and it had landed him a graveyard shift the night of the thirteenth to fourteenth. He had gotten home at 8 AM and so was home when Neela came home that afternoon. She had been able to get off work early. She walked into the apartment and found Ray sitting on the coffee table, playing his guitar, a sight she had frequently seen over the past few weeks. Sheet music lay on the couch in front of him and on the table next to him. Every so often, he would stop playing, write something on one of the sheets and then start playing again. She smiled. He was lost deep enough in thought and concentration that he didn't seem to have heard her come in. After depositing her things in her room, she returned to the living room. This time, he looked up.

"You got off early," he observed. He lay his guitar on the couch.

"Yeah, well, as you know, I went in at six even though I came home last night after midnight. Something came over Albright, and she actually let me out early."

"Maybe she has a Valentine at home," he smiled, then returned to gathering all of the sheet music.

"Or she knows I have one," Neela replied suggestively. He left the pile of paper on the couch and stood in front of her. She slowly slid her hands up under his shirt.

"Then what's in it for her to let you out early?" His arms wrapped around her waist, and he pulled her into him.

"Why are we still talking about her?"

"That's a good question." He had barely finished talking before his lips found hers.

She broke the kiss to pull his shirt over his head. She ran her hands down his newly exposed skin. She could see and feel the nine not-quite-healed lines across his chest. Her fingers traced them slowly before she let them fall to the top of his pants. That's when she noticed it. II. Four red lines. She looked at him questioningly. He sighed, and rubbed his hands over his face.

"You knew I'd see it."

"Yeah," he answered simply. "I didn't hide it," he added.

"So why didn't you tell me before you did it?" She drew her fingers over the cuts, not looking up at him.

"I don't know." His voice was quiet, the volume dampened by his disappointment in himself.

"And you don't know why you did it." She glanced up at him. He shook his head, confirming her statement. "And there's nothing I could have done to stop it." He shook his head again. She wrapped her arms around his neck and leaned her head on his chest. His arms slid around her waist again.

"Am I stupid to accept that this is just how it's going to be? To know it'll go away, but also know it _will _come back?"

"It's not stupid, but I don't think that is necessarily how it has to be."

"It is."

"Maybe."

"I don't see any way else it could be." She lifted her head so she could see his face.

"So you don't see it right now. That doesn't mean there isn't another way. " He didn't answer. "Either way, that does not change this. Us." He looked at her, but still didn't answer. "That's not how I want it to be, but I'm not going to leave just because things don't turn out how I think they should." He nodded slowly.

"I know." He sighed. "I know that now. It seems ridiculous now to think that you would leave." Keeping her focus on his face, her hands slid down his body, making their way to his belt, before pausing.

"But now is not the problem."

"Right."

"I do think you should accept that is how it might be, but you also can't give up on the prospect of figuring it out, controlling it forever. Because I think eventually you will." He looked at her skeptically. She flipped the end of his belt out of the belt loop, then pulled it to unclip it. "Anyway," she smiled, proceeding to undo the button and zipper of his pants, "my place or yours?" He laughed.

"Mine's closer." He pulled the drawstring of her scrubs, untying them. "But that's still really far away," he complained as seriously as he could, which was hard since he couldn't wipe the smile off his face. He gently pushed down on the waistline of her pants, letting them fall. She mimicked the action, pushing his jeans and boxers down, to join her pants on the floor.

"It'll be more comfortable," she pointed out, though taking no initiative to move them closer to the room. He ran his hands up her torso, pulling her shirt up. His hands continued down her arms, effectively pulling her shirt over her head. Once his hands reached hers, he laced his fingers with hers. Leaning his head down, he started kissing her neck. "But, you're right, that is really far away," she murmured. He dropped her hands, and grabbed the back of her head, pulling her into a passionate kiss. She reached behind her back, unclipping her bra, and let it join the rest of their clothes. His hands then wandered down her body, finding the top of her underwear. Hooking his thumbs in the top he pushed them down as far as he could reach. Having to choose between the kiss or removing her underwear, he let their lips part and kneeled down to finish taking off her clothes. He pulled her down to the floor with him and began kissing her again. Eventually her kisses began to stray down his jaw line to his neck.

"Neela," he whispered, "you're right about that comfort thing." She laughed. "Especially," he continued, "because this is going to be a long night." She kissed him briefly.

"Then your room it is." He sat up allowing her to as well. "I think we can make it that far." She stood up. "C'mon." She held out her hand. He stayed seated on the floor, just looking at her. "Ray?" He smiled.

"Neela," he answered finally, "how did you get to be so beautiful?"

"I could ask you the same question." He took her outstretched hand.

"Love now? Philosophize later?" He stood up. She kissed him and nudged his shoulder pushing him in the direction of the bedroom. He smiled.

* * *

**Baby Steps**

/11 months and 21 days later, February third/

_**Get used to it.  
That first incision  
Assured that  
You'll never be alone again.  
An ever-present enemy.  
Its company is not optional  
But  
You determine the extent of its effects.**_

That night Ray was ready for bed before Neela. Before she lay down, something caught her eye. Instead of lying down next to him like usual, she sat.

"What's that Ray?" she asked quietly as she placed her hand on the top of his boxers.

"Exactly what you think it is," he answered stiffly, avoiding eye contact. She pulled the waist of his boxers down a few inches. A red roman numeral two stared back at her.

"Yeah," she said softly. He thought he could hear some disappointment in her voice. Having her disappointed in him hurt far worse than the cuts.

"It's kind of good," he offered, having a weak excuse in mind.

"Oh yeah? How's that?" she asked, honestly curious, and therefore careful to not sound mocking.

"I was going to do it before. Last month. But I waited, until I could retrace it."

"That is good," she answered genuinely, finally making eye contact with him. "But two-two was yesterday. Today's the third."

"I did it yesterday."

"How did I not see it?"

"You actually let me keep my clothes _on _last night, remember?" he laughed.

"Well, I'm not tonight," she smiled. "For strictly medical purposes," she continued trying to sound professional, slowly pulling his boxers down. "The waistband of your pants will irritate it if you keep them on."

"Strictly medical, huh?"

"Well, maybe only partially medical," she smiled, tossing the clothing aside.

"Uh huh, well," he grabbed her arm pulling her closer to him, so they were face to face, "as long as this is a private practice." She giggled at the double entendre.

"Of course," she mumbled before kissing him. After a few moments, he pushed her away.

"I don't think this is really fair here. Why are you still fully clothed?" She laughed.

"Because _I_ have no health related issues requiring me to remove my clothes," she tried.

"Yeah, I think we decided this is really not about medicine," he said as he pulled her shirt over her head.

"Then what's it about?" she answered, trying to play a little hard to get, though at the same time repositioning herself so her knees were on either side of him and she was sitting on his lower stomach.

"It about the fact that we can't do what I want to do if you still have clothes on."

"What makes you think we're going to do that?" she teased.

"Because I love you," he answered seriously. "And I want to show you just how much."

-o-

A few hours later Neela lay in bed, still fully awake. Ray had fallen asleep a while ago. His arm was still wrapped around her body, holding her close to him. She managed to turn so she was now facing him, without removing his arm.

"Ray," she whispered. She got no response, so she whispered his name again, this time a little louder, and gently shook his shoulder.

"Hmm?" he answered, not yet fully conscious. She gave him a moment to orient himself.

"You know it's ok, right?"

"Huh?" She repeated her question. "No, I heard you, what are you talking about?"

"I'm not mad at you for doing it. I'm not disappointed." He didn't say anything, though she saw he was trying to formulate a coherent thought. "And I don't love you any less." He nodded and smiled. She turned back over letting her body conform to his curves.

* * *

**Slowly but Surely**

/11 months and 30 days later/

_**Someone's unwavering love  
Can make all the difference.**__**  
**_

"Well, I've got bad news and not-so-bad news," Ray sighed as he walked into the bedroom, "and good news, though it's not really news because you already know." Having just showered, he was wearing only his towel. Neela was lying in bed already. "Which do you want first?" She sat up, swinging her legs over the side, so she was facing him.

"Uh, how about the bad?"

"It's the second."

"Yeah, I know," she answered, the simple date holding the whole explanation. She motioned for him to come closer to her.

"I made it a whole year," he said, trying to point out the silver lining. She nodded.

"That's good. That's really good."

"Yeah." She un-tucked the corner of the towel, revealing the too familiar mark.

"It's light," she noted.

"That's the not-so-bad news." She nodded. "It barely bled."

"Good." She smiled at him, then kissed the thin red lines. "What's the good news?" He tucked the corner of the towel back in and squatted down, so he was looking at her face to face.

"I love you."

"You're right," she smiled, "that's not news." She kissed him, and leaned back forcing him to join her on the bed. She pulled back just enough to separate their lips and whispered, "and I love you." After a moment of thought, she added, laughing, "tell me now, why are you still wearing that towel?"

* * *

**Hesitant Victory**

/two years later/

_**An unwelcome visitor—  
You can't turn it away,  
But you don't have to let it in.**_

They were both about to fall asleep, when Neela remembered something.

"Hey, Ray," she turned around to face him.

"Hmm?" he answered sleepily.

"Today's the second."

"Yeah."

"Two years!"

"Yeah," he answered unenthusiastically. He turned onto his back, and flipped down the waistband of his boxers, anticipating where this was headed.

"Why do you say it like that?" She sat up, pulling the covers back, immediately seeing the four red lines. II. She dragged her fingers over the marks. The skin was not raised at all.

"I didn't really do it." He licked his thumb and wiped it over his hip bone, smearing the lines. "It's pen." He paused. "I _almost_ did it. I was really close to doing it."

"But you didn't," she cut in. He shook his head, agreeing with her statement.

"I wanted to _see_ it, not feel it."

"I'm proud of you."

"Two years," he smiled. She returned his smile and then leaned down and kissed him.

* * *

**In Time**

/a year later/

_**Previously a wild beast  
Seemingly impossible to tame  
Can eventually be controlled,  
But not entirely broken  
(A whisper of the feral spirit will be eternally elusive).**_

When Neela came into the living room, she found Ray sitting on the couch, elbows resting on his knees, head leaning on his balled fists.

"You ok?" she asked as she sat down. He didn't look up, or really acknowledge her presence. His only response was dropping one of his hands, which was clutching something. He threw the object onto the table.

"Would have been three fucking years." His voice was even, but he was obviously furious. He stood up and took a few steps, heading in the direction of his room. He stopped abruptly, turned around, and grabbed the metal object he had just thrown before retreating to his room.

She opened the door slowly. He was lying on the bed, his tear stained face looking straight up at the ceiling. His hands played with the blade. He didn't seem to notice that she had entered the room. She sat on the other side of the bed, but not right next to him.

"That's ok," she said, almost inaudibly. He shook his head in disagreement. "It's been five since you did anything of much consequence." He rolled his eyes. "Sure, you still did it, you've had a few slip ups, but it hasn't interfered with your work. A lot has happened in the past few years, but you've kept it under control." She leaned over and took the knife out of his hands. She tossed it onto the bedside table.

"Great," he said sarcastically, "five years without really fucking up. Just a few noteworthy mistakes."

"That's a long time."

"That now starts over," he said quietly, finally actually looking at her. "I can't do this."

"Yeah, you can." She moved herself closer, and lay down next to him, her head resting on his shoulder. "You will."

"What if I don't? What if I can't ever get this under control? What happens if I can't really beat this?" He looked down at Neela. She was silent for a moment, and then looked up at him.

"What happens?" She hesitated. "Nothing _happens_ Ray." She sat up and turned so she was facing him. "What happens is that you bleed a little. Hopefully you tell me about it. Hopefully it doesn't interfere with work. That's it. You aren't going to suffer consequences. You're not going to be punished. Our relationship doesn't change."

"How do you know?"

"Know what?"

"Know that our relationship won't change. How do you know that eventually it won't become too much to deal with? And how do I know that you won't some time see how fucked up I really am?"

"What are you talking about?" Neela was shocked by his words. "What makes you think that?" He didn't answer. "I loved you before I knew you cut yourself. I loved you when I knew you were still doing it. I still love you. Nothing can change that. Do you understand what I'm saying? _Nothing_."

"Understand it? Yeah. Believe it? Honestly, no, not entirely. I want to, but there's a part of me that just doesn't. Granted I have not been in many relationships, but they all ended because of this. I know you've said you love me in spite of it, and I believe that, but I believed it when other people told me that too. And look where it got me."

"What can I say or do that will make you see that this is different?"

"I don't know. Nothing."

"Why do you love me?"

"What?" he responded, taken off guard.

"Why do you love me?" she repeated.

"I...I don't know where to start. Because you make me a better person. You're beautiful in a way that isn't just physical. You're intelligent, you make me laugh. You don't hold back criticism to spare my feelings. You forgive me when I screw up. You're always there for me--"

"Precisely," she cut in, "and that's not going to change. You can do things that I don't like. You can do things that I think are wrong, or stupid, and I _will _disagree with you. But that doesn't mean anything will change with us."

"You didn't let me finish," he said a smile spreading across his face.

"No, but you said enough to prove my point." She leaned down and kissed him.

"Which leads into my next reason. You never back down."

"And I won't let you back down either. If you screw up, I _will _forgive you, and I _will _always be there for you."

* * *

A/N: I realize this may not be a particularly satisfying ending either. However, it's the best I can do, because honestly, I don't know how it ends…please review! 

Thanks for reading!


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